Renegade
by harlequindreaming
Summary: Draco is a traitor Death Eater, on the run and on a desperate search for Hermione. Is love enough to keep both of them alive? SEQUEL TO "NOT LIKE THIS." OoC books five and after. Dramione. [INDEFINITELY ON HIATUS]
1. Prologue

_A/N. Welcome to the official sequel of Not Like This! I hadn't planned to write one originally, but plenty of the reviewers of Not Like This were asking for one, and I rather liked the idea, so here it is! If you're reading this now and haven't read Not Like This, kindly exit this fanfiction and proceed to the prequel, please and thank you!_

_Blanket disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter franchise. Unfortunately._

_Random plug: a fan of Not Like This created a trailer for the fanfic! If you haven't seen it, go check it out .com/watch?v=KjQ50wlsTX8. It's quite good._

_Hoping to get as much love in this fic as Not Like This! And without further ado, I present the prologue (which is basically a more detailed version of the teaser I left at the very end of Not Like This). Enjoy!_

**xxxxx**

The night was cold for September. The forest was quiet, save for the occasional hoot of an owl. A fox stole silently through the bushes, tracking a rabbit. The trail ended in a small clearing, and it stopped, sniffing the air. It started back as a loud crack echoed through the night. Two figures appeared in the clearing, panting, bathed in moonlight. One of them waved something and a fire sprang up from the ground. The other circled the clearing, muttering. The fox felt its hair stand on its end. Its skin tingled, and it whimpered and ran away.

The other figure finished circling and sat by the fire, holding its hands close to the heat. Once illuminated, the blood on one of the wrists was clear. They sat in silence, staring into the fire with deadened eyes. The figure with bloodied wrists shifted closer to the fire, which illuminated his white blonde hair and gaunt features. He was shivering. The other figure remained in shadow.

"Where are we?" The blonde one broke the silence.

"The Forest of Dean." The other voice was weary.

"A forest?"

"Yes, a forest." Unconcealed exasperation.

"Nature," the blonde sighed, revulsion in every syllable.

"They might not think to come here."

The blonde just grunted. There was more silence between them. The small fire crackled and snapped merrily, and the blonde huddled near it in obvious relief. He broke the silence again. "Is there any food?"

There was a rustling noise. A small package was tossed over to the blonde. He opened it. "What in Merlin's name is Cap'N'Crunch?" he asked in an incredulous voice.

"Muggle cereal."

"Why do you have Muggle cereal?"

The other one did not reply. The blonde reluctantly opened the packet of cereal with distaste, crunched on a few stale pieces. It was better than nothing. "Do you want cereal?" he eventually asked.

"No."

"Mm." More crunching noises. Then a pause. "Did you hear that?"

The other figure stood up from the shadows. A rustling noise was coming from a nearby clump of trees, and there was something that sounded suspiciously like whispering. The blonde stamped out the fire, kicked away the ashes and burnt grass. The other one leaned over and grabbed the blonde's arm. "Hurry."

The last of the embers died. A cloud passed over the moon; the clearing was plunged into darkness. As suddenly as they came, the two figures vanished.


	2. Escape

_A/N. Bit of a forewarning. Since I'll need to develop the story, the Dramione bits will take a while (as in Not Like This –before any romance could start, Draco needed to learn Legilimency). Bear with me, hang in there, whatever other expressions apply, please and thank you! (Sorry. Some people were complaining about this in the prequel. They'd get to Chapter 3 and message me asking where the Dramione was in all that. My response is always –patience.)_

_And now, without further ado, I present Chapter 1 of Renegade! I hope this sequel does not disappoint!_

**xxxxx**

"Get the boy! Don't let him get away! Bloody hell -Stupefy!"

"Protego!"

Draco Malfoy was flung down next to a tree by the force of a Shield Charm. Its caster, his godfather (*) and former professor, Severus Snape, sent a Stunning Spell of his own at their assailants. Two of them collapsed, but three more came running after them. Snape grabbed Draco's arm, yanked him upright and shoved him forward. Stumbling over roots and his own feet, Draco ran forward.

The forest on the grounds of Malfoy Manor loomed nearby, the moonlight bathing the leaves in an eerie glow. Shouts from the fight echoed into the night sky. A jet of red light came from Draco's right and he dodged the spell, shooting one of his own. It hit, and his assailant crumpled to the ground. Draco grinned in triumph.

"Stop them!"

Draco froze at the sound of that voice. That incredibly familiar voice. That voice that always preceded punishment, that he both feared and loathed. It made him falter, made him hesitate. He tripped over a tree root. Twisted mid-fall. The cold eyes of Lucius Malfoy stared down at his son as Draco hit the ground. The cobra-headed wand took aim.

"CRUCI-"

"NO!" Snape suddenly appeared beside Draco, slashing the air. Draco couldn't believe his eyes. Lucius stumbled back, a long gash slicing across his chest. His gray eyes widened.

"Severus?" he whispered, and blood spurted forth as he fell to the ground.

For a moment, Draco remained on the ground, watching his father's prone form writhe on the ground, gouts of blood flowing from the chest wound. For a moment, he was a small boy again. Despite everything Lucius had done to him, to his mother, to innocent Mudbloods, Draco couldn't help the pain that flashed through him, the despair. No child should ever see their parent dying before them. He reached out a hand toward his father; it was perhaps the only affectionate gesture he had afforded his father throughout his whole life. But before he could do more than that, Snape snatched his wrist away and pulled him roughly to his feet. If his father said anything more, Draco never found out.

Without looking back, for fear that he might do something rash, Draco ran on, dodging spells, ignoring the pain in his heart. Judging by their distance from the Manor, they were perhaps halfway across the grounds by now, several Death Eaters in hot pursuit. He swore, first in English, then French. This wasn't how the plan was supposed to go. No one was supposed to have been around. But they'd slipped up and gotten spotted, and now they were racing across the Manor grounds, Draco's escape compromised. Snape's identity compromised.

"EXPULSO!"

Draco threw himself to the ground none too soon. The spell just missed his head; the tree to his left exploded. He rolled over and fired a Disarming Charm at whoever attacked him. It missed. He raised his wand to fire another one. A rock whizzed out of nowhere, caught him in the gut. He doubled over in pain.

"Hurry, Draco!" Snape grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged him upward, forcing him to stand. Together they made for the east gate, randomly firing spells behind them. Snape put up one shield after another. A jet of green light narrowly missed Snape's chest. From between the trees, in the flashes of moonlight, Draco thought he recognized Rookwood's harsh features. Trees loomed all around them. Draco's world was spinning. They were never going to make it.

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Draco snarled in frustration as his wand went flying from his hand. He tripped over his own feet, raced after it. Colorful jets of light flew over him or past him as he ducked through the trees. More and more voices were echoing through the small forest. There were too many Death Eaters; they wouldn't be able to get away. He found his wand at the base of a small shrub, ducked behind an oak tree, looked around frantically. Where was Snape?

As if reading his mind, something silvery and ethereal streaked out from behind him. He watched as it formed itself into a doe. The doe pawed at the ground, opened its mouth, and spoke in Snape's voice. "Go."

A stitch was starting to form in Draco's side. He pressed down on his ribcage, watching the Patronus dissolve into night. He knew what Snape meant, even if he didn't like it. Snape was telling Draco to go on without him, to the safe point of the Order. To leave him here to finish the fight. _You must trust me, Draco. No matter what happens. _Snape's words echoed in his mind. _No matter what happens. _A loud thud came from behind him and Draco cringed, a sob catching in his throat. He clenched his fists to stop from cursing himself. Snape was out there, sacrificing himself so that Draco could run, and he was sitting here, _crying? _Angrily, Draco rubbed at his eyes until it hurt. A Malfoy did not cry. He glanced around. The sounds of the fight were not as loud, but he couldn't keep hiding here –someone was bound to come across him. Ignoring the thudding of his heart and the trembling of his limbs, Draco got up, and with one last backward glance, ran away from the fight.

And straight into Rookwood.

"Running away, are you, boy?" Rookwood's savage grin tore apart his face. Draco backed up, raised his wand, determined to do as his godfather was –going down with a fight. It didn't matter if terror and despair were eating away at him. Rookwood sauntered toward him, arrogant and sneering. He lifted his wand and Draco flew backward into a nearby tree. He could feel the rough bark scratch at his skin. Rookwood slashed the air and a cut opened on Draco's cheek, blood spilling forth. He was still pinned to the tree trunk. Another slash, another cut, this time on his ribs. Rookwood laughed madly, waved his wand. Draco crumpled to the forest floor, landing badly on his ankle. Ignoring the pain (which was no mean feat), he raised his wand, taking advantage of Rookwood's momentary lapse in attention.

_Petrificus Totalus, _Draco thought with all his might, and immediately Rookwood's body went rigid. Draco got up, using a branch for support, wincing as his weight came down on his bad ankle. He limped away as fast as he could, making sure to step down hard on Rookwood's groin as he passed over his still form. Jets of red and green light came through the trees, but he ran on. As soon as he made it outside the Manor grounds, he gripped his wand tightly and Apparated-

-and reappeared outside a tall, slightly dilapidated house. He looked around, confused. He didn't know where he was, if he was even in the right place. Snape had only given him an address, so he didn't know to whom this house belonged. The pain of his wounds began to catch up with him; he had lost too much blood. His vision began to blur. The last thing he remembered before collapsing was a figure making its way toward him, shouting for help –a figure with something flaming red atop its head.

**xxxxx**

When Draco awoke, it was morning. Daylight was streaming through the curtains, which were worn and patched. He sat up, one hand flying to his forehead as dizziness threatened to engulf him. _Where am I? _he thought. _Where's Snape?_

A hand suddenly and lightly touched his shoulder. He jerked away, retreated, pulling the sheets up as a pathetic shield. His vision blurred and he put out a hand to steady himself. The figure in front of him still had its hand held out, awkwardly. "I won't hurt you," it said.

Draco blinked, trying desperately to clear his vision, his mind, his heart. He knew that voice. His sight began to clear. Something glinted in the daylight. Draco's eyes widened in recognition. His heart thudded wildly in his chest and he scrabbled around for his wand, exclaiming-

"What the bloody hell?"

**xxxxx**

_A/N. So… what did you think? Was it a decent first chapter for the sequel? Was the action too strange? R&R, please and thank you! And again, welcome to the sequel!_

_Also, (*) – I'm not entirely sure if this is canon, but it seems appropriate. I know I didn't elaborate on this relationship in the prequel, and I apologize –I kind of just thought of it now, HAHA._


	3. Confusing Information

_A/N Hi guys! Sorry for the long wait; school's been taking up a lot of my time. I am bowled over but incredibly happy with the reception the first two chapters got! So many reviews, and it's only the beginning! :D I also got plenty more reviews for Not Like This. I wonder if I can make it to 200 (haha!)._

_Hoping I never disappoint you wonderful readers, I give you the next installment! I'm patterning this story after Not Like This, so it'll have "now" moments as well (but I won't call them "now" since everything's happening in the same time line, so I'm just using a different POV), but this time, they're __**not necessarily **__Draco. I'll let you guys guess, neh?_

_Chapter time!_

**xxxxx**

I don't know where I am, I don't know what's happening. It's dark and damp and cold. I think I hear a rat. They've taken my wand and cut my hair. I can't remember the last time I've eaten. I can feel scratches all over my body.

I'm scared.

**xxxxx  
>xxxxx<strong>

"What the bloody hell?"

The figure backed away, palms raised in a gesture of surrender, but Draco was too panicked to process anything. He grabbed a pillow, hurled it, and missed. He scrabbled about for more ammo, and then remembered his wand. He took aim and the figure backed up faster. "Stupefy!"

Harry ducked as the jet of red light shot toward him. It hit the wall behind him, leaving a charred circle. He took shelter under a large trunk as another Stunning Spell shot past him. "Stop cursing me, ferret!"

"Why would I do that?" Draco yelled back, slowly climbing out of bed. He was still dizzy, but it was better than when he'd first woken up. He advanced slowly, wand at ready. A slight movement caught his eye and he sent a Disarming Charm, which hit the floor.

"I said I wasn't going to hurt you, didn't I?" Harry said, peeking out from behind the trunk and sending a Disarming Charm of his own at Draco, who deflected it with a Shield Charm. Cursing inwardly, Harry ducked back behind the trunk.

"Why should I believe you?" Draco hissed as he carefully approached the trunk shielding Harry.

"Because I know the truth!" Harry bellowed from behind the trunk. Draco was momentarily floored. What truth? The truth about his relationship with Hermione? How had Harry found out?

Taking advantage of Draco's momentary distraction, Harry sent a non-verbal Full Body-bind at him. Instantly, Draco's arms snapped to his sides, his legs stuck together, and he fell like a plank to the floor. As soon as he was sure Draco was immobilized, Harry got up, panting. He strode over to where Draco lay on the ground, staring bloody murder at Harry. "Now, I'm going to lift the spell, but only if you promise not to curse me afterward, all right? Blink if you understand."

Draco blinked.

"Okay then." Warily, Harry waved his wand, and Draco stretched, flexing fingers and moving joints, biding his time. As soon as he saw Harry begin to drop his wand, he went for his.

"Stupe-"

"Expelliarmus!" Draco's wand flew to Harry's hand. Snarling in frustration, Draco leapt up, but Harry shot him down with another spell. "Damnit, Malfoy, can't you calm down a little? If I'd wanted to hurt you I'd have done it while you were unconscious!"

Draco sat on the floor, panting, rubbing at a bruised hip. "Shut – up – Potter."

"And drop the attitude already." Harry sat down wearily on a nearby trunk. "We know."

"Know what?" Draco eyed him suspiciously.

"Snape told us."

"Snape-?"

"He works with us, for the Order. He went to Dumbledore as soon as he found out you and Hermione had disappeared. It took the Order months to locate you; Snape was quite manic by the end of it."

"The Order-?"

"-of the Phoenix. It's a secret society set up by Dumbledore to combat Voldemort." Harry paused, looking down at Draco. "Didn't you know that? I mean, you Apparated right outside the magical boundary of the Burrow. There's no way you could have known where this place was unless you'd been told the address by the Secret Keeper." (*)

"Snape works for Dumbledore?" There was so much new information coming in, and Draco was having a hard time processing it, no thanks to the injuries he'd sustained and the dizziness he was still feeling. Order of the Phoenix? Combat Voldemort? Snape was part of it? What was so special about this burrow?

"Yes, ferret, old Snivelly does indeed work for Dumbledore," said Fred Weasely, bursting into the room. "Cheerio!"

"Welcome to our humble abode!" announced George, right behind his twin.

"What are you two doing here?" Harry groaned.

"We heard the two of you fighting-" began Fred.

"We were hoping you'd transfigured him into a ferret again-" George cut in.

"But it turns out you two were just being an old married couple-"

"Which will make Hermione pretty jealous, mate." George chuckled as he socked Harry on the shoulder hard enough to knock his glasses askew. "Unless of course young master Malfoy here was only getting close to Hermione to get to you."

"Wouldn't put it past him, George, old friend," Fred said as he stroked his chin and gave Draco a sidelong glance.

"He does seem like the type," George nodded seriously.

"They'd go on for hours, though, you can tell, probably about Draco not washing the dishes-"

"Could someone just explain to me where I am?" Draco cut in, irritated and utterly bemused. Their humble abode? He was in the Weasel house? Why had Snape sent him here?

"You, o bamboozled one, are currently in the home of the Weaselys, at Ottery ." Fred announced, and bowed.

"I see." Draco worked hard to hide his displeasure. It wouldn't do to aggravate them, if he was in their house. "Why am I here?"

"You Apparated here last night. Gave us quite a scare, didn't he, Fred? Appearing in the bushes like that."

"For a moment we thought he was Mum, come to catch us while we were out hunting Toadcrackler weeds for our latest project," Fred stage-whispered to Harry, pointing at Draco, and Harry chuckled.

"We were actually rather disappointed when it was him. Mum would have been the perfect chance to test the effects-"

"That's enough, thank you." Draco rubbed at his forehead. Their chatter was bringing back his headache. Then a remark of George's clicked in his mind. He looked up, his heart thudding. "Hang on. You said Hermione. Is she- is she here?"

That sobered the three of them immediately. "No, she isn't," Harry answered, his voice dark. "In fact, we thought she'd be with you."

"We hoped, you mean," Fred corrected, moodily kicking the trunk Harry was sitting on.

"When you turned up here last night in a ruckus, Fred and I were the ones who saw you and brought you in. We thought Hermione would be there too. When we saw she wasn't, we assumed she might arrive a little later," George elaborated, leaning against the door.

Draco stared at a small spider crossing the floor and tried not to process what George meant, but failed. They had thought Hermione was with him. So even they didn't know where she was. He'd spent all those months trying to reason where she'd be, where they'd taken her, but he'd always drawn a blank. The last time he'd seen her, they'd been kissing fiercely in the Room of Requirement, and her hand had closed around his left arm. The next thing he knew, there was a burning pain all around him, and he'd passed out, the last conscious thought in his mind being that Hermione had inadvertently summoned Voldemort, and doomed them both.

"Come to think of it," George continued, breaking through Draco's thoughts, "old Snivelly hasn't showed up yet either. Wasn't he supposed to bring Draco back himself?"

"Bring him back or follow him back, depending on how the plan went" Fred shrugged. "Oy. Ferret boy. Any ideas where your godfather might be?"

Draco stared at them, his gray eyes wide with worry. "Snape didn't come back?"

"Didn't we just say that?" Fred moaned in exasperation. "Honestly, Malfoy, weren't you supposed to be smart?"

"'Supposed to be' are the keywords, Fred," George chuckled.

"George," Harry warned, putting a hand on Fred's arm to silence him. He'd caught sight of Draco's expression before he'd turned and walked to the other side of the room.

"No," Draco whispered as he sank back down onto the bed. "No, no, he was supposed to come back. If anything happened, I was supposed to head to the safe point and he'd follow."

"That was the plan. But he isn't here yet. Hasn't sent any word either," Fred said, swinging himself up onto a chipped, dusty dresser.

Draco's hands began to shake. Where was Snape? They'd been near the east gate when Draco had left, so Snape didn't have far to go before he was past the boundaries and able to Apparate. And he'd said he'd come back. _Go. _The words of the Patronus echoed in his mind. Leave me, he'd meant. Let them get me instead of you.

"Anyway, apart from spying on you two lovebirds, Mum sent us here to check if the ferret's awake. You should be grateful to him, Harry. Mum's transferring her feeding compulsion from you to him, seeing as he's skinnier." Fred opened the door and bowed, gesturing that the company leave.

"At least he's got muscle, though. Harry over here is just a wimp," George said as he pushed Harry through the door.

Seeing Draco just sitting there, staring at his feet, Fred straightened and walked over. "Listen, mate, it'll take more than a few Death Eaters to kill old Snivelly. He's probably just detained somewhere, washing his hair or something." He reached out a hand hesitantly, and gave Draco an awkward pat on the back. "Come on. Best you eat first, to get your strength back. Then Lupin and Kingsley will be over and we can work something out."

Draco nodded mutely, grateful for the reassurance but not enough to show it. He walked out the door and down a long, crooked flight of stairs. Portraits of various Weasely family members gazed down at him, following him with curious gazes. The steps creaked and from upstairs came a howling and a rattling. He looked up, frowning.

"Ghoul," Fred remarked as he passed, answering Draco's unspoken question. Shuddering slightly, Draco continued down the stairs and walked into a bustling kitchen. His mouth immediately began to water. He could smell bacon frying. There was toast on the table, three jugs of various drinks, and a few eggs were cracking themselves over a frying pan, which was flipping them happily. A line of sausages passed right in front of him and arranged themselves on a plate, which settled down on the table, and following them was a pleasant, smiling woman, who was talking at top speed and holding the largest pie Draco had ever seen.

"Fred, be a dear and put this down on the counter, would you? George, get the forks and knives out and set the table. Harry, dear, hello, help yourself to some toast! And oh, Draco! Gracious, I didn't realize you were already awake, I wasn't expecting you for another hour! Would you like some pumpkin juice?"

Draco, who was generally overwhelmed by the smell of cooking and the sight of dancing sausages and the fact that this woman was calling him by his first name, could only nod. Humming slightly, the woman poured him a glass and held it out to him. He took it dazedly, sat down on a nearby stool, instinctively took a sip. The drink was cool, familiar, and refreshing. Before he knew it, he'd finished off the glass.

"Oh, Draco, help yourself to the food! There's toast and eggs and sausages and bacon, and I'll get to the pancakes in a little while." The woman waved her wand and a stack of toast, along with three sausages and a few slivers of bacon, flew onto a plate and landed before Draco. The clank of the plate jolted his mind a little, and he remembered his manners.

"Thank you, er-"

"Oh heavens, I haven't even introduced myself! Molly Weasely, hello." She held out her hand and Draco took it and bowed over it politely, as he had been taught. Mrs. Weasely chuckled. "Now aren't you just a little gentleman. Fred and George could stand to learn a lot from you." She glared at the twins, who both suddenly became immensely interested with their sausages.

Draco poked at his food, the information he'd received not having improved his appetite. He nibbled at the toast a little and munched on a piece of bacon, if only to fill his stomach a little so he wouldn't faint. His mind was still in chaos.

"Now don't you frown like that," Mrs. Weasely commented, tilting the frying pan and adding a stack of pancakes to Draco's already full plate. "Snape will be here soon enough and then we'll gather in the living room and plan out how to rescue Hermione." She patted his head absentmindedly and went back to the stove, leaving Draco feeling like a family pet.

"Help!" Draco's head snapped up along with everyone else's at the voice. It seemed to be coming outside. "Molly, it's him! He's back! But he looks bad. Someone, help me get him inside!"

Draco stood abruptly, upsetting his plate. Molly gasped, and hurried into the next room. Fred and George bolted out of their chairs, probably to head outside, judging by the sound of the door. Harry, who'd been about to get some more bacon from the stove, paused, his body tense.

"Mum!" George's voice carried into the kitchen.

"Coming!" Mrs. Weasely bustled out of the room where she'd gone, arms full of bandages and potion bottles. Confused, Draco turned to Harry, whose expression had gone very sober.

"You don't think-?" But Harry only nodded and followed Mrs. Weasely out.

For a moment, Draco could only stand there, frozen. Was it –Snape? Was he alive? He couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't breathe. And then he wrenched his hand away from the table, snarling in frustration. His godfather had nearly died for him. He had to see for himself how bad Snape's condition was.

Outside, it was a flurry of activity. Snape (for indeed it was he) was lying on the ground, covered in blood. Mrs. Weasely was frantically dabbing a smoking potion at his wounds, while a man, whom Draco took to be Mr. Weasely, was bandaging them. Fred knelt by Snape's head, waving his wand and muttering spells. Harry stood to one side, his face pale. George was nowhere to be seen.

Draco ran toward Snape, fell onto his knees. Gripped his godfather's hand. Snape's face was deathly pale and frighteningly still. His clothes were soaked in blood. For a heartbeat, Draco thought he was dead, and he nearly broke down. But then the hand he was grasping twitched, its fingers weakly closing around his own. Draco looked up, tense. Snape furrowed his brow, then coughed, and opened his eyes. Draco could barely meet his gaze, but something in Snape's eyes commanded his attention.

"Draco," Snape whispered hoarsely, coughing. "She is – alive."

**xxxxx**

_A/N Haha! What did you think? As always, reviews are very welcome, please and thank you!_

_Also, about the (*) – I've never completely understood how a Fidelius Charm works, especially with the whole Secret Keeper mumbo-jumbo. If I'm wrong, or if anyone wishes to explain, please tell me! Help a fellow fan out over here, yeah?_


	4. Frustrations

_A/N Yay! I'm so glad everyone's enjoying the story. :D All the reviews I've been getting have been making me so happy. Thank you also to those who answered my question about the Fidelius Charm and being a Secret Keeper. I sort of understand it now. And to the person who pointed out my inconsistency in spelling "Weasley," thanks too. I hadn't even noticed. xD_

_I'm warning you guys now that my architectural design class is giving us a major project, so I'll be updating maybe once a week, probably on weekends –not nearly as fast as some of you guys might like. I hope you guys will be patient, and will stay with me until this story is over._

_I now present you guys with the next chapter! Enjoy!_

**xxxxx**

"Bloody hell," Draco swore vehemently as he punched the wall of the Weasley attic bedroom. It was mid-afternoon. He'd been pacing back and forth in the tiny, crowded space for the better part of an hour, having gotten fed up with the forced optimistic atmosphere down in the kitchen. If Mrs. Weasley tried to shove another piece of toast down his throat, he was going to have to hex something into oblivion. Possibly the toaster.

"Relax, ferret," George commented. "We're worried about Snape too, but all we can do now is wait." He waved his hand in Draco's general direction, his voice muffled by the pillow resting on top of his head. Draco resisted the urge to smother him with it. Easy for them to say. It wasn't their godfather, the man who'd risked his life to break Draco out of Malfoy Manor, who was lying on a couch downstairs bleeding profusely. Draco moodily kicked at a nearby chair.

"Yeah, Malfoy," Fred called from where he was lying in the armchair, his gangly legs dangling over the arm. "Also, we may have been instructed to be civil toward you ever since we found out you were now on our side and were trying to get into Hermione's pants, but if you break our house we will _conveniently _happen to forget you're not a miserable Death Eater anymore and sic the ghoul on you."

"Or the gnomes," George added, wagging a finger in the air.

"Or Aunt Muriel."

"Oh, good one, Fred."

Draco ground his teeth, resisted the urge to hex them both, and headed toward the door for the twelfth time since he'd come up. Before his hand even touched the doorknob, Harry, who was cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the bed, recited mechanically, as he'd been doing for the past hour, "they-will-call-us-when-he-is-well-enough-to-see-us."

Draco snarled in frustration, punching the door. He was sick of waiting, sick of pacing around this floor, sick of being told to stand aside. Snape could be dying down there and he wouldn't know anything about it. Mentally flicking the finger at the three boys behind him, he grabbed the doorknob and wrenched open the door –and almost stumbled into a red-haired girl standing outside, her hand where the other doorknob had been.

"What?" Draco snarled, getting sick of all these redheads popping up everywhere. He hadn't seen head or hide yet of the Weasel, which was a blessing, but there were more than enough gingers in his house to make up for him. It was almost becoming a relief to see Harry and get some rest from a sea of freckly, flame-haired nuisances. Almost.

"Snape's awake," she announced to the room in general, and walked back down the stairs, her long red hair swishing. Without another thought, Draco barreled down after her, pushing her aside in his haste to get to Snape. He tripped on the last step and stumbled into the living room, grabbing the door frame to break his fall and almost yanking his arm off. When he'd regained his balance, he found Snape sitting up on the couch, paler than usual but looking otherwise healed. Behind him stood Lupin, whom Draco vaguely remembered from their third year at Hogwarts; across Lupin was an unfamiliar, dark-skinned man. Mrs. Weasley bustled in from the kitchen. "There now, Draco, no need to worry! We've patched him all up and he'll be right as rain this evening."

Draco did not respond; he crossed the room and knelt at his godfather's feet. Other than a slight nod, Snape did not acknowledge Draco's presence. Draco's gut twisted. Having all these feelings was a nuisance. Sometimes Draco found he preferred his old, apathetic self.

A thunder of footsteps announced the Weasley twins, the Weasel, the girl from a while ago whom Draco now recognized as their sister, and Harry. Mr. Weasley came through the front door. When they'd all assembled in the living room, the unfamiliar man walked toward the center and spoke.

"We have informed the rest of the Order of Snape's successful retrieval of Draco Malfoy last night. He had been revealed the location of one of our hideouts, the Burrow, through a note written in the hand of Mr. Weasley. The young Malfoy arrived last night, followed by Severus this morning. It is to be understood by everyone that Draco Malfoy is now on our side. Am I correct, Draco?"

Startled at being addressed (particularly after the phrase "successful retrieval" –what did this man think Draco was, a spoon?), Draco nodded mutely. The truth was, he hadn't actually thought about it. Certainly he would never side with his father and Voldemort now, but did that mean he was now with Dumbledore? Wasn't there some sort of middle ground anywhere?

"Severus has also reported the unconfirmed but likely death of Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, whom Severus severely wounded last night in battle, at the expense of his identity."

Draco felt all eyes in the room glance at him, then look away. He waited for some form of pain to manifest, but all his heart managed was a dull throb that ebbed away into numbness. He was acutely aware of the dry state of his eyes. He thought back to last night, and to how his father's last words to him were that of an Unforgivable Curse. He still felt numb.

"Finally, Severus has informed us that Hermione Granger is still alive, and is being held captive at the old Lestrange house somewhere north of Malfoy Manor. She is in dire need of rescue-"

"Hell yeah, she is, Kingsley," Ron hissed, his gaze venomous. It was the first time Draco had seen him since his arrival, and Draco guessed this was because Ron would have a much harder time obeying the order to be civil than the twins and Harry. Actually, he probably didn't even have to guess that.

"Ron," Harry shushed, patting the fuming boy on the shoulder.

"Don't you 'Ron' me, Harry," Ron almost shouted, shrugging Harry's arm off and getting up. "Hermione's been missing for bloody months. Months! We've been worrying ourselves to death trying to find out where she is, and when we finally know, we're going to do nothing but fucking sit here and talk about it?"

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley gasped, aghast at her son's language.

"Nobody said we were going to do nothing, Ron," Lupin said calmly, running a hand through his graying hair. "But we can't just go hurtling off to the Lestrange house without some sort of plan."

"What's there to plan?" Ron snarled, anger turning his cheeks as red as his hair. "We go there, we blast any Death Eater that gets in our way, we take Hermione and we come back."

"It's not that simple-"

"I agree with Weasel," Draco spoke up, surprising everyone including himself. He got up, his body shaking. Hermione was alive. They knew where she was. Why wasn't everyone on their feet, raring to go rescue her and fight anyone who got in their way? Her laughter echoed in his ears and for a minute, he could almost smell the lemon scent of her hair. Hermione. "It's been months. I've been lucky as a –as a prisoner, but Hermione certainly won't be. We need to get her out of there _right now."_

"That's not possible, Draco-"

"Don't you bloody tell me that it's not-"

"Draco," came a quiet voice from beside him, and Draco paused at the sudden pressure on his arm. He looked down. Snape, who had been silent all this time, had laid a hand on his wrist. Immediately, Draco silenced. Across the table in the middle of the room, Harry had his wand trained on a livid Ron, who had his mouth clamped shut.

"Thank you, Severus, Harry," Lupin nodded, a half-smile touching his lips at the sight of Harry warily pointing his wand at Ron's tightly closed mouth. "Now, we didn't say anything about not going to rescue Hermione. But we cannot proceed without a plan." He looked pointedly at Ron and Draco, neither of whom deigned to respond. "The first thing we need to do is a stakeout. Find out who's guarding the place, what it's like, even what they've been doing with her, if possible. When we've gathered enough information, we form a team-" He cut off abruptly as Ron got up and silently stormed out of the room. After a slight pause, and a glance at Draco, Harry got up and followed him. Draco sat rigidly on the floor. Infuriating as it was to sympathize with the Weasel, the fact was he did. After months of being locked in that dark, miserable room with nothing but a sketch and a note to remind him of Hermione, Draco was dying to have her back. He would do anything.

"Perhaps another time, Remus?" Mrs. Weasley spoke up quietly from the couch where Ron and Harry had been sitting. With a sigh, Lupin nodded, and the meeting broke up, though the tense atmosphere remained. Mr. Weasley exited the house, Fred and George went back upstairs, and Mrs. Weasley disappeared into the kitchen. In a corner, Lupin and the dark-skinned man were holding a hurried, whispered conversation. Snape remained where he was on the couch, his eyes closed, and at his feet, Draco made no move to leave him. Finally, after the briefest of glances at Draco, the other two adults left, and Draco and Snape were alone.

Sitting this close to Snape, Draco noticed that his scars had not completely healed. A long strip of skin lay white on white on Snape's cheek. Several more crossed his arms. There were dark circles around his eyes, and a burn mark on his temple. Draco looked at his own bandaged ankle, his lone bruise on his elbow. Suddenly, his anger at Lupin's inaction seemed pathetic.

"Draco." His head jerked up. Snape was looking down at him, regarding him with unfathomable dark eyes. Draco couldn't hold his gaze for long; he dropped his eyes to the floor. "She will be rescued, Draco. We will not stand idly by. Not this time." There was a long silence, for Draco could not bring himself to reply. Slowly, Snape got to his feet. Startled at his godfather's movement, Draco stood up hastily and made to help Snape, but Snape ignored him. He walked slowly, deliberately, until he was almost at the door to the kitchen. For some reason, Draco could not wrap his mind around the fact that Snape, who usually swept through the corridors of Hogwarts with a confident stride, was moving as if his bones were made of glass. Snape paused, glanced backward at Draco, and the words that came from his lips were so quiet Draco couldn't be sure he'd heard right-

"But I understand how you feel."

And with that, Snape disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Draco with a heavy heart and a million questions he could find no answers to.

**xxxxx**

_A/N …was that any good? I'm worried this chapter is a little boring, or that the ending is weird. R&R so I know how you feel, please and thank you!_


	5. Regrets and Runaways

_A/N I'm glad you guys are picking up on the whole Snape/Lily vs Dramione vibe. I apologize if Snape seems a bit out of character in that last chapter; it's hard to make him sympathize with Draco while keeping his usual aloof attitude. Thanks also for the reviews you guys have given me –I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Hope I never disappoint._

_Since I've got the time, here's the next chapter!_

**xxxxx**

The night was chilly, but Draco had no inclinations to head back into the house. It unnerved him, the atmosphere inside –the relationships between the people, the idea of family dinner, the general optimism of the place. He wasn't used to being offered seconds, or being told to take another piece of cake, or being asked how he felt. Not that it was wholly unpleasant; it was just… unnerving.

Having declined another piece of pie, and evaded the twin's attempts at getting him involved in a few rounds of wizard's chess, he'd gone outside to wander around and had discovered this clearing. It was quiet, surrounded by trees, and it provided him with an excellent view of the sky. Best of all, he could be alone here, away from an environment he didn't quite fit into.

Draco hugged his knees to his chest, and in the silence of this clearing, the darkness of the night, finally allowed himself to feel the loneliness he'd been suppressing ever since his capture. Alone in that storeroom, he had tried not to let despair break him down, though it had become increasingly difficult as the days had worn by and no hope of rescue had been in sight. He'd tried to remain strong, for her sake, but now, Merlin, now he allowed himself to miss her –to miss the warmth of her slight body; the curve of her lips as she'd smile; the depth of her warm brown eyes. Her absence suddenly hit him, hard, fast, painful –like being struck by lightning. He had to fight back the tears. It had never occurred to him until then that he might never see her again, but now… A sob broke through his defenses and Draco gave himself over to them, to the agony that had been threatening to swallow him whole. _Hermione, _he thought, as the tears streamed down his hollow cheeks, _Hermione, don't die. I love you._

"It's too nice a night to be crying, in my opinion." A quiet voice came from behind him and Draco whirled around, biting his lip. The light of the half moon illuminated Lupin's tired features. Angrily, Draco wiped at his face, embarrassed at having been caught crying. _A Malfoy does not cry. _Why had this shabby ex-teacher come up here, anyway?

"I suppose I should apologize if anything Kingsley said rubbed you the wrong way," Lupin continued, waking into the clearing. "And if I said anything as well. We only meant well."

Draco pursed his lips and turned away from Lupin. Raw emotion is hard to suppress, and Draco did not want to show weakness in front of other people. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough to hurt, and that helped. He focused on his teeth pressing down, on the pain it brought. He forced the loneliness into a corner of his heart.

"We _will _save Hermione, Draco," Lupin said softly, standing a few paces away from Draco. "None of us in the Order would ever stand aside and let the Death Eaters do what they will with her. And she's a resilient thing." Lupin smiled faintly. "She's strong."

Hearing Hermione's name almost broke Draco again, and he bit down harder, trying to ignore the anguish that was gnawing at his insides. He willed Lupin to leave.

"We all love Hermione, Draco." Lupin's voice was so quiet now that Draco could hardly hear him. "Perhaps in different ways from yours, but we love her just the same. We all want her back." He turned away, looked up at the night sky, took a few steps back toward the house. "Though perhaps it should be Snape talking to you, not me."

That caught Draco's attention, and he turned just as Lupin was about to disappear into the trees. "Snape-?"

But Lupin just smiled, a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "That is not my story to tell." He turned away. "Don't stay out too late; you might catch a cold and you're still recovering. I'll leave the back door unlocked." And with that, he left.

Draco stood, frozen, staring at the spot where Lupin had been. What had he meant by that? How was Snape related to his current predicament? He frowned, and remembered what Snape had said that afternoon. _I understand how you feel. _

Frustrated at his ignorance, Draco returned to the house. The back door, as Lupin promised, was unlocked, and Draco slipped inside. It was later than he'd thought; the house was silent. He walked up the stairs, entered the room where Mrs. Weasley said he'd be sleeping in (Fred and George had been displaced to the attic). Snape lay on the other bed, recovering from his wounds, his pale face peaceful in its slumber. _I understand how you feel. Snape should be talking to you, not me. _What had they meant?

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets to stop from tearing his hair out in frustration. His fingers touched his wand, and a terrible idea came to mind. Could he-? No. This was Snape. That would be a breach of privacy far worse than what Draco had done to Hermione. But curiosity pressed him, urged him on. _You've been inside his head before, _Draco's heart murmured treacherously, and Draco shook his head violently. No. But the need to know grew, and finally, after fighting what he knew was a losing battle, Draco's fingers closed around his wand. He drew it out of his pocket slowly, reluctantly, as if a force other than himself was commanding it. He pointed the wand at Snape and whispered, his voice shaking-

"Legilimens."

**xxxxx**

"…_thought we were supposed to be friends?" Snape was saying to__ a girl who must have been Lily. "Best friends?"_

"_We are, Sev, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging round with!"_

The scene changed to a different memory. Snape was standing outside the Gryffindor tower, pleading with Lily.

"_I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just - "_

"_Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends - you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"_

_Snape__ opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking._

"_I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."_

"_No - listen, I didn't mean - "_

" _- to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"_

Again, it changed. Snape stood on a hilltop, facing Dumbledore, his expression manic, desperate.

"_If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?"_

"_I have - I have asked him - "_

"_You disgust me," said Dumbledore, his voice filled with contempt. Snape seemed to shrink a little, "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?"_

_Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore._

"_Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her - them - safe. Please."_

"_And what will you give me in return, Severus?"_

"_In - in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Draco's heart caught in his throat, for he knew if Dumbledore asked him that question, there would be only one answer -"Anything."_

Another memory. Snape was in an office with Dumbledore, sobbing on the floor unrestrainedly. Draco had never witnessed his godfather so vulnerable; the sight pained him.

"_I thought…you were going…to keep her…safe…"_

And then the next memory, Dumbledore pacing back and forth, Snape watching him, haggard and anguished:

"_But this is touching, Severus," Dumbledore __was saying. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"_

"_For him?" shouted Snape. "Expecto Patronum!"_

_From the tip of his wand burst a silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears._

"_After all this time?"_

"_Always," said Snape._

And Draco had had enough. With an almighty effort, he wrenched his mind away from Snape's, the last words of the memory echoing in his mind. _Always, always, always…_

**xxxxx**

Draco sat down heavily on the bed, understanding washing over him. Snape was working to make sure Draco did not have the same regrets he himself had. He looked over at his sleeping godfather, who thankfully had not been awoken by Draco's perusal of his mind. He had never expected, never thought…

A clock chimed twelve somewhere, and Draco shook his head to clear it. It was obvious that if he stayed, it would take much too long before a plan was formed to rescue Hermione. Now that he knew where he was, and now that he'd realized he might lose her, he refused to wait here until they'd decided on what to do. Quickly, he grabbed a back from the floor, pulled a few shirts out of the closet (gritting his teeth as he did so, but what choice did he have?) and after a moment's hesitation, shoved in a few Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes that seemed useful. He opened the door quietly, and with one last glance at his sleeping godfather (and a pang in his gut that he swiftly ignored), left the room. The door closed behind him with an ominous click.

Down in the kitchens, Draco filled the bag with whatever food seemed ideal for a journey. Bread, cheese, some meat, all wrapped up so as not to dirty his other belongings. He patted his pocket to ensure he still carried his wand, and took a deep breath, trying to calm his beating heart. For a moment, fear gripped him, and he almost dropped the bag and ran back upstairs. But he thought of the smell of lemons, and a laugh he would give anything to hear again, and he squared his shoulders, determined to get her back.

"I'm coming, Hermione," he whispered, and he strode toward the door. But before his hand closed on the doorknob, another hand loomed out of the darkness, its fingers closing around Draco's shoulder, and a wand pressed itself into his back. Draco froze. A voice came from behind him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

**xxxxx**

_A/N Yes, another cliffhanger! Hehe. I do want to keep you guys in suspense. So… what did you guys think of the chapter? Was the whole Lupin+Draco scene weird? Did you hate me for making Draco read Snape's mind?_

_Noting: some passages in this chapter were lifted directly from The Prince's Tale, with some phrases omitted or changed to suit the story. I do not own Harry Potter, unfortunately._

_Also, to spice things up a bit, I am announcing a contest! Who do you think caught Draco trying to sneak out in the middle of the night to save Hermione? The first person to guess correctly gets a sneak peek at the next chapter once I've written it! *wink wink* I will message you if you're the lucky winner, and will inform you of when the next chapter will be available for you to read. Just to give myself a little fun. For people without fanfic accounts, I'm sorry, but you guys will have to sit out of this contest. Please don't hate me! It's just because I don't want you guys revealing personal information (email addresses, to be specific) on something as public as FFnet. _

_So what are you guys waiting for? Review and tell me who you think it is! (Or you know, just review me. HAHA.)_


	6. Unlikely Companionship

_A/N Hi guys! Sorry for the long wait –school's been a bitch. Being in architecture is much more difficult than I thought. Thanks to all those who participated in the contest and congratulations to the winner, Tied Up In Something True, for correctly guessing Ron! I now present you with the next chapter of Renegade. Enjoy!_

**xxxxx**

"Where do you think you're going?"

Draco inhaled sharply as a wand dug into his back. It was past midnight; he'd thought everyone in the house was asleep. He tried to pry his wand out of his pocket unnoticed, but before his fingers even came close his hand jerked up involuntarily.

"You try to hex any of us, ferret, and I'll set a Bat Bogey Hex on you," said a familiar female voice from behind him.

"Calm down, you two." A third familiar voice came from behind Draco, who was contemplating the risk of reaching for his wand with his other hand. But he had just twitched it a little closer to his pocket when the wand at his back bit deeper and he winced. The voice spoke again. "Ease up, Ron, you're hurting him."

Ron? Ron Weasley? Very slowly, Draco turned his head to the left. Indeed, it was Ronald Weasley who had his wand pressed to Draco's back. That meant the female voice was his sister… Jenny? Jilly? who had threatened him with the Bat Bogey Hex. And if the Weasel and Weaselette, then the third voice could only be…

"Don't you bloody tell me to ease up, Harry," Ron whispered vehemently. Draco could feel his wand shaking. "The ferret was about to sneak out on us and-"

"Rescue Hermione, no doubt." Draco could hear the exasperation and the concealed smile in Harry's voice and wondered, not for the first time, why the Boy Wonder was being so nice to him.

"Like bloody hell he would." The venom was still in Ron's voice, but the pressure in Draco's back eased. Before he could be relieved, though, Draco was suddenly pushed forward. "The git doesn't care about Hermione. He's probably just trying to save his own skin."

Draco caught himself on a nearby shelf, nearly wrenching his arm out of its socket. A few steps away, Harry rubbed his temples and sighed. "Ron, we've been through this enough times. He _does _care-"

"How do you expect me to believe that?" Ron shouted. He bit his lip at a warning glance from his sister. Obviously, the three were sneaking around as well. When he'd regained his composure, Ron continued in a more subdued tone. "Harry, he's hated us all these years. He's dedicated his life to tormenting Hermione, hexing her and calling her all sorts of foul names. He actually thinks he's better than her!" Draco retreated slightly as Ron flung an arm out in his direction. "And now you just expect me to believe that he's changed and he l- he lo- he lov-"

"I don't know about the love part" –and here Draco was grateful that Ron was too busy fuming, and Harry talking, to glance his way, for he could feel the heat creep into his cheeks and knew he was probably blushing– "but I believe he cares about her. You heard Snape's story."

"And you expect us to trust that slimy git?" The sneer on Ron's face, along with the insults he'd been hurling at both Draco and Snape, triggered something inside Draco and before he could think twice, he hurled himself at Ron, landing a punch square on his jaw. Ron staggered back, completely flummoxed, which gave Draco another opportunity to punch him. He didn't get the chance to push his luck though, as Ron got his bearings and hit Draco in the gut. Completely winded, Draco stumbled backward and sat down hard. Ron aimed a kick, but before he could follow through, Harry and the Weaselette –_Ginny; _that was her name- both raised their wands. A shield charm erupted between Draco and Ron. Forcefully separated, both of them sat, panting, staring bloody murder at each other.

"Dumbledore trusts Snape," Ginny said, reciting the words Hermione herself had said before, and Ron quieted. "And if we can't trust Dumbledore, we can't trust anyone." She crossed her arms and glanced at Harry. His mouth tightened, but he made no protest. Ron merely glared at the floor. Draco blinked, unable to comprehend the sudden tension between the three.

After a very pregnant pause, Harry moved forward. "Are you two ready to call truce?" He looked at Draco, who nodded immediately. Ron glowered at Draco a few moments longer before giving a curt nod. With a wave of Harry's wand, the shield charm between them vanished. Already standing, Draco began inching his way toward the door. Before he got far, Harry trained his wand on him. "Now, then, Malfoy," he said, his face impassive, "where were you going?"

Draco pursed his lips, unsure of how to answer. He knew he ought to be honest with these people, who cared very much about Hermione. But a sidelong glance at Ron, who was fuming so much Draco could almost see the steam coming from his ears, made Draco hesitate. Finally, with a glance at Harry, Draco replied, "Hermione."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Ginny's smug grin. Harry's face remained impassive, but a strange emotion flickered in his eyes. Draco did not turn toward Ron, but could feel the anger radiating toward him from Ron's general direction. His wand still pointing straight at Draco, Harry asked, "why?"

Draco blinked. He hadn't expected this question, at least not from Harry. He looked down at his feet, trying to find the words. It was too exhausting to try and act haughty to these people who'd opened their home up to him. "I want to rescue her," he said hesitantly. "I _have _to. I was-"

"You _have _to?" Ron scoffed, barely concealing his disbelieving laugh. "Please, Malfoy. This is more than just a pathetic attempt to prove you're on our side, which I doubt-"

"And this is more than a ridiculous attempt to win over a girl you don't deserve, Weasley!" Draco shot back, his temper getting the better of him. "It's my fault she is where she is now. It's my fault we were both captured. If I hadn't-" and here he broke off, the pain and guilt threatening to overwhelm him. He bit back his tears. He could _not _cry in front of them. "It just –it has to be me. It has to." He worked hard to keep the desperation out of his voice. He refused to break down. Not here.

"You really expect us to believe you-?"

"Ron." Harry cut across Ron, his voice sharp but quiet. Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny shot him a warning glance and he closed it, choosing instead to glower at the room. Harry turned to Draco. "We'll let you go." Ron let out a noise of protest, but Harry held up his hand and he silenced. "We will let you go on one condition." Green eyes met silver ones. "We go with you."

Draco opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Harry raised his wand again and Draco pursed his lips. "Mal- Dra- Draco," Harry said, and everyone else looked at him in surprise at his use of Draco's first name. "You're not the only one who cares about Hermione. She's our best friend, and we want her back just as much as you do."

Ron snorted, but no one paid him any attention. Harry held Draco's gaze. Finally, realizing they'd probably follow him or tie him up and take them with them (or worse, leave him behind), Draco nodded once. Harry smiled in grim satisfaction, nodded at Ron, and turned to Ginny. "Gin-"

"I'm coming with you," she said, crossing her arms defiantly, to which Harry and Ron simultaneously replied, "no."

"Hermione's my friend too!" Ginny exclaimed. "I want her back just as much-"

"No," Harry cut her off. "We'd be too many, and you're underage. You can't Apparate, and you've still got the Trace. And I –And Ron and I can't put you in harm's way on purpose." He looked at Ron, who nodded. "Stay."

Ginny glanced at both of them, then (to his extreme surprise) looked at Draco in what was unmistakably an appeal for support. He shook his head wildly, wanting no part of this argument. Giving all of them hurt looks, Ginny turned and fled.

With a flick of his wand, two bags flew into the room, and Harry and Ron each shouldered one. Turning to Draco, Harry asked, "do you have a plan?"

Sheepishly, Draco shook his head. "Have _you _got one, Potter?" he asked, by way of salvaging his dignity.

"No," Harry replied. Behind him, Ron was glaring at Draco, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Well," Draco said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I suppose we could start near my home?"

"It's as bad a place as any," Harry shrugged, and turned to Ron. "Now before we leave, we need to call a truce." Ron did not move his gaze from Draco, who was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable with this setup. "We're all working together now. So, no fights, no insults, no tricks. Deal?" Harry looked at the other two expectantly.

Draco considered. On the one hand, he'd be traveling with two people he'd hated all his life, one of whom was raring to kill (or at the very least hex) him at first opportunity. He didn't know how to get along with either of them. On the other hand, he couldn't very well go bursting into the Lestrange house alone, with no plan, especially since he'd been branded a traitor to the Dark Lord. He could use his help. Finally, reluctance weighing heavily in his heart, he held out his hand. Ron made no move to take it, but glared at Draco's offer of truce. Harry reached out and smacked him on the shoulder, and Ron reached out, barely touched Draco's hand, shook it once, roughly, and dropped it as if he'd held a snake. Satisfied, Harry turned toward the door. Ron followed him, making sure to push against Draco on his way out. Sighing, Draco left, and closed the door behind him.

**xxxxx**

From the upstairs window, Snape watched the three figures make their way down the path toward the edge of the magical boundaries. He watched as one by one, they disappeared into the night, the only traces of their departure being the echoes of their Disapparition. Wishing them a silent farewell, he made his way back to the bed, one hand absentmindedly rubbing his forehead. He fervently hoped that Draco would learn from what he'd seen, and not commit the mistakes a foolish, narrow-minded, sallow-faced boy once did. With a glance at the empty bed on the other end of the room, Snape returned to his slumber, a laugh and a red-haired girl playing at the edges of his mind.

**xxxxx**

_A/N Was that chapter weird? xD I'm worried that it makes no sense or that the characters seem too out of context. I'm trying to play up the whole Draco/Ron antagonism here._

_Anywho~ Will the three manage to get along well enough to form a plan and rescue Hermione? Will Ginny really sit still at the Burrow, knowing her friends are out there, searching for Hermione? Has Draco truly converted to the Light? Find out soon! (I hope.) Again, R&R, much appreciated!_


	7. A Night Ends In Dreaming

_A/N So! Having finished up a particularly big project for my course, I can finally write again! Sorry for the delay. Thank you so much for your reviews! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. Thanks again to everyone who participated in the contest. I'm planning another one soon, hehe._

_Also, can I just say –there are more polite ways of asking for the next chapter or telling me you can't wait. Much as I love that you enjoy my story, I don't appreciate being called names or being demanded to upload more. You people are capable of telling me nicely how much you like it, so please do, please and thank you._

_Chapter time!_

**xxxxx**

The wind whipped about their cloaks as the unlikely trio appeared in the outskirts of Wiltshire. While Harry and Ron checked their belongings and scouted their surroundings, Draco looked around at the familiar scenery and felt, for the first time in his life, a pang of homesickness. Had his father really died in combat? What had become of the manor, of Trilly the house-elf, of his mother? _And what_, Draco thought as he gazed in the direction of Malfoy Manor_, is to become of_ _**me**__?_

"Malfoy." Harry's voice broke through Draco's thoughts, and he turned toward the other two sluggishly, as if in a dream. "Come on, we've got to set up camp."

"Camp?" Draco almost wrinkled his nose at the thought. "Camp" did not sound pleasant.

"Where did you think we were going to stay, ferret? Malfoy Manor? The Death Eaters will give us a warm welcome, I'm sure," Ron said loudly, sarcastically. Draco's hand automatically went to his wand, but Harry glared at him and Draco had to settle for cursing Ron many times over in his head. In French.

"Come on, Malfoy. You can help set up protective enchantments. Ron, you get the tent up."

"Why do I get tent duty-?"

"Ron!" Harry cut across him with a glare. Draco couldn't hold back a snicker. Ron glared at Draco for a few seconds, then rummaged in the bags, all the while muttering under his breath. Draco suspected the Weasel was cursing him as well, though possibly not as creatively as he himself had done. He took out his wand and began circling their little camp, muttering what spells he knew. Soon, between him and Harry, they had the camp reasonably protected. And then Draco turned around and saw the tent.

"We're sleeping in _that?_" he exclaimed before he could stop himself. But really, who could blame him? The tent was filthy and badly pitched. It looked like it had been shat on by a Hungarian Horntail then run over by a mob of angry hippogriffs. Thrice.

"Got anything better?" Ron spat at him, unmindfully waving his wand around. A few spurts of yellow flame came out of the tip, landing near the tent. Draco raised his wand, fully intending to put out the fire, but Ron misinterpreted his gesture as an attack. He raised his wand and shouted, "Stupefy!"

Draco put up a Shield Charm in response, and shot back an Impediment Jinx, the flames quite forgotten. Ron was knocked off his feet, winded. But before Draco could retreat or take shelter, Ron countered, shouting "EXPELLIARMUS!" Draco's wand flew out of his hand, and Ron deftly caught it. Draco raised his fists, fully prepared to take Ron down physically. Before either of them could react, however, Harry decided it was time to intervene.

"ENOUGH!" he bellowed, freezing them both in Full Body-binds. Draco was caught mid-stride, fists in the air; Ron was about to hex Draco, the other wand held behind his back. "Now," Harry went on, panting slightly, "you both called truce. We're none of us going to get anywhere if we keep bickering like kids. This isn't about some stupid school boy grudge. This is about getting Hermione back. And if you two want to do that, I suggest you buck up and stop fighting." Draco fell forward as the body-bind loosened; the spell Ron had cast flew over his head. Draco, landing near the tent, backed up quickly, almost knocking Harry over. "What?" Harry snapped.

"Oh, nothing, Potter," Draco drawled, rubbing at the sore spot where his head had connected with Harry's hip. "I just thought you'd like to know the tent's on fire."

"Merlin's pants," Harry swore under his breath, and hopped over to put out the blaze, which Draco watched quite cheerfully. Perhaps they wouldn't have to "camp" after all.

**xxxxx**

"Merlin's pants," Draco swore, wrapping his sweater more tightly around his shoulders as he shivered in the cold night. When the tent had caught fire, he'd thought that would be the end of "camp," but Harry and Ron had managed to save it in time, and with a few _Reparos, _had made it something resembling shelter. It had become clear, though, when they'd stepped inside, why Harry and Ron needed Hermione so much. Their patch job was pathetic. The rain was leaking into the tent, and the air smelled of burned linen. Draco had managed to fix up his side of the tent so it was passable, but still. To be in a tent at all felt… degrading.

_I don't have a right to feel that way anymore, _popped up a small voice at the back of his mind, and he blinked. Where had that come from? Shaking his head, he tried (as he had for the past three, four hours) to sleep, but his mind kept wandering back to Hermione and to something Ron had said. Finally admitting defeat, he quietly stood and left the tent.

Outside, the rain poured down steadily, but Draco let it come down on him, soaking through his clothes and flattening his hair. It soothed him a little. He sat down on a nearby rock, thought back to that one afternoon he'd spent with Hermione, when it had been raining in the window of the Room of Requirement. She'd explained to him the Muggle perceptions of thunder and lightning, and how eager she was to understand the relations of time and space. She really was one of a kind –knowledgeable and curious about magical and Muggle matters alike.

_You really just expect us to believe you? _The argument with Ron from the night before surfaced. What _was _his reason for doing this? To get back Hermione, yes, but because he wanted to or because it was the right thing to do? And what would he do _after _the rescue? Merlin, he hadn't even thought that far. What if Hermione was dead? Or what if she was alive, but now hated him for landing her in such a horrible situation? What if she'd realized, after being trapped for months, that she _didn't _love him, that she loved–?

A snap of a twig caught his attention. He tensed, his hand going to his wand. There was no sound of movement from the tent, so the other two were probably still asleep. A rustling noise echoed in the surrounding trees. Draco got up slowly, wand at ready, and crept toward the source of the noise, being careful to stay within the protective enchantments. A noise that sounded almost like a whispered swear word came from his left. Against his better judgment, he risked leaving the protective enchantments and approached the wood. Something rustled again, and a nearby bush shifted, and Draco caught a flash of color and his eyes widened in recognition-

"Ginny?"

The response was a jet of red light, which Draco dodged and returned in kind. He caught the shimmer of a Shield Charm. As soon as it was gone, he sent a non-verbal Body-bind jinx through the trees. Something thudded to the ground. Warily, Draco made his way through the trees. His foot nudged something, and he saw, parting the bush next to him, the frozen form of Ginny Weasley, glaring up at him.

"Ah," was his eloquent remark.

**xxxxx**

"How the hell did you even get here?" Draco demanded of Ginny after he'd loosed her from the Body-bind. They were standing in the woods, a short distance away from the tent. Ginny looked utterly disheveled. There were twigs in her hair and a rip in her jeans. Though that could have been from her fall after he'd frozen her.

"I flew." She flushed, nodding at a broom lying at the foot of a nearby tree. Draco blinked, impressed. The distance between the Weasley home and his was no easy feat. But he recollected himself.

"You shouldn't be here," he stated. "I'll go wake up your brother and Potter and-"

"You wouldn't dare, Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" For the nth time since the argument had begun, Draco had to repress a grin. This girl was as different from her pathetic brother as you could get. He took a step toward the tent. "It'd be pretty easy."

"You _can't _tell them I'm here. They don't want me around, you know that."

"Why did you even come, then?"

"I had to." She bit her lip and for a moment Draco felt the full force of sympathy for this girl. But only for a moment. "Hermione's my friend too."

"But you can't-"

"Just because I'm underage doesn't mean I can't help!" Ginny flushed in anger. "I could scout or cook or-"

"That's not just it, Weasley," Draco cut in, rubbing at his forehead in frustration. "I'm pretty sure Potter and Weasel have their own reasons."

"I don't care-"

"Well you should." Draco was unremorseful. "Now go. I won't tell them you tried to follow us if you go home now."

Ginny opened and closed her mouth several times, the hurt and disappointment written all over her face. Draco was almost sorry to send her off. She'd definitely be more useful than her monkey brother, and she'd alleviate the awkwardness of the current companionship, but Potter and Weasel had been determined not to include her. And Draco desperately wanted Hermione back, and if cooperating with Potter and Weasel would help, then he'd damn well swallow his pride and cooperate. Which meant not letting Ginny stay.

Sensing her defeat, Draco turned toward the tent. He'd barely pulled open the flap, however, when her voice came from behind him, small but determined.

"You really want her back, don't you, Mal- Draco?"

He paused, one hand on the tent entrance. He stared at the cloth clenched in his fist, trying to find the words to answer Ginny. "Yeah," he replied at length, unable to express himself more eloquently. "Yeah, I do."

"Why?"

The question made something in his chest clench. He thought back to the days of the Room of Requirement, of the sound of her laughter, of the sketch and the notebook he carried with him, safely tucked in his pocket. "You may not believe me," he said slowly, weighing each word in his mouth, "but I love her. She –she changed me so completely." He abruptly cut off, not knowing what else to say. The silence hung between them, heavy and tangible.

From behind him, he heard a rustle, a snap, and then a whisper: "I believe you, Draco." Then a soft thud, and a rush of air. Draco entered the tent and finally fell asleep.

**xxxxx**

He had to be dreaming. He had to. However else could he be with her right now, with her hands caressing his cheek, running through his hair, pressing against his bare chest? How else could he be holding her slender body to his, breathing in the lemon scent of her hair, pressing his lips to her forehead, her cheek, her lips? They kissed, long and hard, and when she pulled back he held her close and whispered against her skin, _I love you._

But before she could reply, everything began tumbling all over and melting away and she began disintegrating in his arms. Pain seared through his left arm once more and a voice was calling his name and he tried to reach out for her but his fingers only touched air-

and he woke up to the morning, panting, her name on his lips. Something cold was on his cheek, and he raised a hand to it and found that he was crying. He buried his face into his thin, ratty pillow, grateful neither Harry nor Ron had awoken yet, that he might cry a little in peace.

**xxxxx**

_A/N So… was that worth waiting? Are things getting repetitive? I promise the action starts in the next chapter, when the boys finally get around to __**doing **__something about getting Hermione back. Constructive criticism will be very welcome, please and thank you! Hope you're all still reading!_

_Word of warning, though. I've got another big project coming up (think actual floor plans and things, all hand-drawn) so I won't be able to update very soon. I hope you'll all be patient with me! I'm also planning out a brand new fanfic that's completely AU (and I might just offer a sneak peek as a reward sometime soon, winkwink)._

_On a random note, since nothing happened in the prequel, do you guys want them to have sex here? Just curious._


	8. Outside Malfoy Manor

_A/N Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. On with the chapter now! Remember, I'm reusing my idea from Not Like This and putting in another story (in a different point of view). Just so you know how dear Hermione is doing._

_Edit: I put up this chapter already but I took it down since I found it too short. If anyone was already reading it, so sorry!_

**xxxxx**

They feed me, at least. There's a tray shoved through a slot in the door. It's usually just water and a small chunk of stale bread or a few spoonfuls of porridge (and once, fruit), but it's still food.

I don't know how long I've been here. There are no windows; I don't see daylight. I never hear any voices, just footsteps.

Someone, please, help me. Harry, Ron, Draco… Oh, Draco.

It's too painful to think about him.

**xxxxx  
>xxxxx<strong>

"So let's recap," Harry said, spreading the rough sketch of Malfoy Manor onto the table again. "There are gates facing all directions –north, south, east and west. The north gate is the largest, a few miles from the entrance to the actual manor. The manor is surrounded by trees, with a few clearings. Death Eaters are stationed at every entrance, and there's forest patrol-"

"-and there are Death Eaters at the Manor door and various hexes and spells protecting the place. We get it, Harry. We've been over this plan enough times. Let's _go,_" Ron cut in, his voice impatient. He'd been agitated from the moment he'd woken up.

Draco sat on his cot, twirling his wand. It was more of a nervous act than anything else; it gave him something to do. "The protective enchantments, we can bypass since I'm with you. As long as there's someone with Malfoy blood accompanying you, you're safe. We've got Potter's invisibility cloak too. Just stick to the paths so the grass doesn't give us away."

"They might have changed the enchantments-"

"I've also got the mark." The atmosphere darkened slightly at this reminder. "We've got nothing better, anyway. Weasel's right, we should go."

Ron did not deign to acknowledge this agreement, preferring instead to stomp outside. Harry sighed, and waved his wand. Their possessions repacked themselves; the tent folded itself up and tucked itself into Harry's bag. Draco touched the notebook inside his backpack. With one last glance around to make sure they hadn't left anything incriminating behind, the three Apparated to the location Draco gave them.

They reappeared in a small cave, at the foot of a hill near Malfoy Manor's east gate. After tending to Ron's cut shoulder (he still Splinched himself on occasion), they huddled under the Invisibility Cloak. Ron had at first flat-out refused to wear the cloak along with Draco, but Harry had talked him around. Though as it was, Draco would have preferred to just Disillusion himself and walk apart. The setup was the epitome of awkward and uncomfortable; he'd never been in such close quarters with two other boys before.

When they were a few feet away from the borders of the protective enchantments, Draco called them to a halt. Ducking out of the cloak, but staying in the protection of the trees, they surveyed the area. Draco winced in recollection; the last time he'd been here, he'd been fleeing for his life. Two masked Death Eaters stood flanking the gate; as they watched, another walked past inside the grounds. Draco was disappointed, though –the guards were absolutely silent. He'd been hoping the three of them would have something to eavesdrop on.

Something moved in his peripheral vision and Draco looked up. Harry was waving for a regrouping. Ducking down, Draco made his way toward Harry and Ron. As he weaved through the bushes, he paused, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He turned, wand at ready, but no one was there. Frowning, he turned back. Funny. He could have sworn it felt like someone was watching him.

**xxxxx**

"Tomorrow night."

Harry had only uttered those two words before pulling the cloak back on. The three had made their way back to the small cave in silence. As soon as they'd set up camp (without the ratty tent, thank Merlin, though the current setup wasn't much better), the boys set up watch shifts. Draco took first watch. Ron stomped off to bed. Harry reminded Draco to wake him at midnight and bade him good night before following Ron into the cave.

Sitting by himself in the dark, Draco went over the plan again. It wasn't foolproof (especially if the Death Eaters set up spells against him, Mark or no Mark), but it was the best they could come up with. Planning things out had only emphasized the void where Hermione had been –Harry was level-headed and smart enough, but lacked the logic and rational Hermione would have added to the table. Ron was hot-headed as ever. Draco had inside knowledge of the Manor and its defenses, but he wasn't much of a strategist outside wizard's chess.

Hermione. The closer their recon of Malfoy Manor got, the more careful the boys were of not mentioning her name. None of them spoke it, but all of them knew that they'd all pinned their hopes on this mission. They were hoping to get information, hints… anything at all. Anything they might use to get her back.

Before they could do too much damage, Draco wrenched his mind away from those thoughts. Best not think about it yet. He checked the watch Harry had left him again. Two hours to go. Settling back, he stared out into the forest. The night sounds of animals filtered through the trees –the hoot of an owl, the prowl of a fox. Draco yawned. Then the hairs on the back of his neck prickled again, but he was becoming too sleepy to notice. A pair of eyes glinted in the light of the moon, but Draco's own were already starting to close…

**xxxxx**

_They were in the Room of Requirement. The yellow curtains moved lightly in the breeze; a light scent of lemons was in the air. She was curled up against him on the couch, which felt larger than usual. She was in Muggle clothes, a skirt and a light blouse. He was in charcoal gray pants and a midnight blue collared, button-down shirt. She turned around and kissed him, kissed him like the kiss they had shared in the Room of Requirement that last day, hot and fierce and passionate. Her hands twined in his hair and his traced circles up her back and in a dim corner of his mind he realized this could not be real, but he ignored the thought. All that mattered was that he had her now. However borrowed the time may be, he had her._

_He felt her gasp against his lips as his hands slipped underneath her shirt, tentatively touching the soft skin beneath the fabric. Meeting no resistance, he allowed his fingers to rove, following the sinuous curve of her spine, the taper of her waist. He traced the bones of her ribcage, ran the very tips of his fingers over the soft skin under her breast. She felt so soft beneath his touch, so smooth, so pliable –he was scared to touch her, for fear he might dent her permanently._

_Her hands were moving quickly, gently down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as she went lower. The touch of her fingertips on his taut skin burned him, but he let her burn him, hoping the burns would scar, that he might wear the remnants of her touch on him forever –that he might never forget her, and that she might never forget how she had changed him. He dipped his head, ran his lips down her neck, and she arched her back, inhaling sharply. He laughed low against her skin and she nipped behind his ear in response._

_She reached down, took his hand, put it to her breast. He handled them gently, almost reverently; a devotee allowed to touch that which he so ardently worshipped. He kissed his way down her collarbone; kissed the small hollow at the base of her neck. Her hands moved deftly over his hips, his chest, tracing the muscles, the bones. Moving back and forth, opening him and closing him, over and over. Cutting him and healing him in the same touch._

_He wrenched off her blouse, pulled her to him, skin against skin. Their bodies fit like clockwork pieces, her hips notched in his. They kissed, long and hard and fervent, their breath coming short. He could feel her heartbeat through her skin; it was so loud it shook his world. He took her fingers, kissed them, pressed them to his chest, so that she might feel his own heart, beating loud and strong. Beating for her. Only for her._

_Desire heightened. His hands were at the waistband of her skirt and she kissed her way down his chest and confining fabric was falling away and though Draco had known a woman's touch, it was nothing, nothing like this, not even close-_

"Draco?"

He awoke, panting slightly, a light sheen of sweat covering his skin. Harry was standing over him, frowning. Draco looked at the watch he gripped in his hand. 12:30. "So- sorry," he muttered, his face flushing. Had he spoken in his sleep? Done anything inappropriate?

"S'all right," Harry replied sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "Go on in, I'll take my watch."

Draco nodded, stood, handed the watch to Harry. As he did, their eyes met, and if Harry knew anything of Draco's dream, his gaze gave nothing away. He clapped Draco on the shoulder and sat down outside the cave, wand in hand. Draco made his way into the cave, to the sleeping bag he'd set up earlier in the evening. He curled up inside it, lay his head on the ratty pillow, closed his eyes. He did not revisit his dream.

**xxxxx**

"Ready?" Harry whispered from nearby. Draco gulped and nodded. They were standing outside the magical boundaries once again, watching the guard change. They huddled together under the cloak and moved forward. Stepping carefully around tree roots, scattered twigs and fallen leaves, they made their way along the beaten path. Slowly, they approached the Manor grounds. Inhaling deeply, the three stepped into the magical boundaries.

A heartbeat of silence. Then purple light flashed around them and the three of them collapsed in pain.

"What the bloody hell is happening?" Ron bellowed in pain as the Death Eaters at the gate came toward them.

"I don't-" Draco began to reply before the cloak was thrown off the three of them and someone wrenched Draco to his feet.

"What have we got here?" a familiar voice said in his ear, as a wand was dragged across his throat. "Three blood traitor brats, off to rescue their Mudblood friend? How touching."

All around them, Death Eaters cackled. There were six of them in all, six against three boys barely of age and not yet out of school. "These two 'ere," commented the blonde Death Eater holding Ron, "I understand. What's Draco doin' 'ere?"

"You don't know?" Draco struggled to place the voice as it spoke softly, menacingly in his ear. "Young Draco here actually fell in love with the filthy Mudblood. He even thought to hide it from us. But we found out, didn't we? We found out and we locked him away for a long time." Draco's captor grabbed a fistful of his blond hair and yanked backward, and Draco almost cried out in pain. "And now he's come back to rescue the girl, just like Prince Charming." More laughter.

"Is too bad she's as good as dead, then, innit?" The blond Death Eater laughed. "Locked up in the Lestrange house up north Wiltshire, she's got nothin'-"

"Silence!" hissed Draco's captor. "Do you want them to know everything?"

"So what do we do with them, ay?" The Death Eater holding Harry shook him, knocking his glasses askew.

Draco's captor looked down at Draco, and Draco finally recognized him. The voice, the glint in his eyes- "Rookwood," Draco gasped.

"Heh. So Draco here remembers me." Rookwood's mouth twisted into a sneer. "I say we keep this young Malfoy here, and Potter. The Weasley is dispensable –there are so many of them anyway, I doubt he'll be missed."

"No!" Suddenly Harry was out of the arms of his captor and slamming into Rookwood, knocking Draco aside. The Death Eater he'd escaped paused for a moment out of shock, then raised his wand and shot out a jet of red light. Instinctively, Draco put up a Shield Charm. Rookwood, momentarily floored by Harry's tackle, had managed to get up and was locked in a struggle with Harry. Taking his cue, Ron gracelessly elbowed his captor in the groin.

Suddenly, everything was happening very quickly. The six Death Eaters swooped down on the three runaways, who bravely put up a fight. Draco and Harry took down one apiece with Stunning Spells, while Ron opted out of wand use and jumped on Rookwood, poking him in the eyes.

The three were locked in duels, Draco manfully taking on two at once. Then he felt that prickle at the back of his neck again, and this time a flash of red appeared in the corner of his eye. His combatants tried to take advantage of his momentary distraction, but Harry had just locked his attacker in a Body-bind and engaged one of Draco's. Jets of light were flying everywhere. Draco put up shield after shield, the onslaught of the Death Eater he was dueling with too fast for him to counter-attack. He tripped over a tree root, fell over, and braced himself for another attack…but nothing came. He looked up, only to find his assailant's face covered in flapping…

"Bogeys?" he said, utterly bewildered.

Ron, who had been struggling with Rookwood nearby, froze upon hearing Draco's remark. "Ginny?" he whispered.

Rookwood, seeing Ron was distracted, slashed the air in front of him. Draco raised his wand to put up a shield charm, but too late. A long gash cut through Ron's back and he fell.

**xxxxx**

_A/N HAHA I love cliffhangers, don't you? (No, obviously you guys don't.) Hehe. Ahem. So, what did you think? Sex scene too random? (Sorry, I like to give Draco good dreams. They'll keep up through the chapters, anyway –the dreams, I mean.) Don't expect an update anytime within the next two weeks, by the way, since it's finals time and I've got a bitchload of projects to handle. Thought I might just decide to take a break from all the crap and write a chapter to relax. At any rate, please read and review, just so I know how I'm doing. Constructive criticism is always welcome! :D_


	9. Decision

_A/N__ Words__ of__ wisdom__ for__ you__ guys:__ if __you __want__ to__ take__ up__ architecture__ in__ college, __be__ prepared__ to__ never __sleep.__ These __projects!__ Anyway,__ here __we__ go__ with__ the __next__ chapter!__ Thank __you__ to__ those __who __reviewed!__ You __guys __never__ fail __to __make__ my__ day._

_I've got another random contest here, just for the heck of it. I'm curious as to why you guys ship Dramione. Review and tell me! Best answer gets a sneak peek at my next fanfic project, which I've already started writing. Please? :D_

_Chapter time!_

**xxxxx**

"I thought we told you not to come!"

"Do you think I could stay away?"

Draco sat on the floor at the foot of Ron's cot and watched the Ginny and Harry's argument grow more heated by the minute. They'd retreated here after Ron had gone down, choosing practicality over bravado. Both Draco and Ginny had tried their best with healing spells, and Ginny had brought bandages, but Ron still looked pretty bad. His breathing was shallow at best, and it had taken both Ginny's and Draco's combined efforts to stop the bleeding. Draco was utterly exhausted by the extensive use of magic, but it seemed Ginny had enough fire left in her to yell at Harry for the past hour. The argument had been going in circles; Draco was on the verge of casting a Silencing charm on them both.

"You're underage! You can't even Apparate-"

"But I can save your sorry arses! Draco wouldn't even be here if I hadn't hexed that Death Eater!"

"One lucky shot doesn't mean we need you!"

"Oh will the two of you shut it!" Draco erupted, his frustration getting the better of him.

"…inny…"

The three of them quieted and whirled around at the sound of Ron's voice. He twitched on the bed slightly and spoke no more. Ginny and Harry looked sheepish, and Draco just rolled his eyes and resumed his post on the floor.

"Well now that the Weasel girl is here, I don't suppose we could send her away," he drawled, adjusting his legs so he was comfortable. "And she _is _of some use –in spell-casting, at least."

"The Weasel girl has a name, Malfoy," Ginny replied, sharply, but smiling. "But thank you."

Draco couldn't believe himself, but he grinned back up at her. She _had _saved his ass, after all. He may be a Slytherin and a Malfoy, but he knew how to be grateful, even to weasel redheads. Harry looked from Draco to Ginny and back, and shrugged, as if to say _will__ wonders__ never __cease._He left the cave, and Ginny retreated to a corner to rest, leaving Draco to his own thoughts at the foot of Ron's cot. And his thoughts, as always, turned to Hermione.

North Wiltshire. He remembered that house. The family had been there often enough, when Uncle Rodolphus' mother had been alive –she'd taken a liking to Draco, and had wanted him over to liven the dark and dreary household. It was an old house, with a labyrinthine set of tunnels underneath, built during the old wars. Now that Draco thought about it, it was the perfect place to hold Hermione prisoner. It had been unoccupied for years now, and it was very out of the way. And those tunnels would come in handy. Draco had tried exploring them as a child, but had never managed to work his way through them completely.

He couldn't believe that all these months, Hermione had been so close. The Lestrange house was only a short drive away from Malfoy Manor. All those months spent in prison, and she had been _right__ there,_ in the same town. If only he'd known sooner-

"-mmph." A noise behind him startled him out of his thoughts. Draco looked behind him to find Ron stirring. Ginny stood up from the corner she'd been huddled in and came over. As she and Draco stood over Ron, Ron blinked.

"I'll go tell Potter," Draco stated abruptly, wheeling around and stalking off before Ron could come to. He didn't really feel like sticking around and filling the Weasel in on everything that had happened, nor did he feel up to treating wounds again. Once outside, he found Harry sitting moodily on a stump, staring at the cloudy afternoon sky. Draco paused a few steps away. "Weasel's up," he said shortly.

The silence between them was so thick Draco could almost touch it. He stood there awkwardly, unsure if he should leave it at that and go (but where to?) or repeat what he said –or something. At length, Harry looked away from the sky, at the forest, and spoke. "Do you think we're doing the right thing, Malfoy?"

His voice was so quiet had Draco not been expecting something to break the tension, he would not have heard it. As it was, the question only made the atmosphere more uncomfortable. The past few days, in truth, had made Draco feel more discomfited that he had ever felt in his entire life. He'd lived in a house that made him feel more welcome than in his own, had learned things about his godfather he'd never imagined, and had teamed up with the two people he'd hated almost as much as his father in order to save the girl he never thought he'd love. _Who __would __have __known,_he thought, and almost smiled.

"Malfoy?" Draco looked up to see Harry eyeing him curiously, and realized he hadn't replied yet. And realized he didn't know what to reply. He looked from Harry, to the trees, to the sky. A bird flew across the gray expanse.

"I'd like to think we are," he eventually said, and tried not to comprehend this new feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. If he didn't think about it enough, he wouldn't realize how it was oddly close to something quite like friendship.

**xxxxx**

"So Hermione's up north?" Ron asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, as Ginny redressed his wounds. They were still a little raw around the edges, but were otherwise healing. Ron had offered Draco a rough, muttered "thanks" after Ginny had told him how much Draco had done for his injuries. Draco guessed (correctly) that that would be the most civility Ron would extend toward him for a while, but at least Ron wasn't ragging on him all the time anymore. Even pathetic Weasels knew to be grateful.

"Yes, and Draco knows where the house is," Harry replied, exasperated, even his patience being worn thin. Draco's had snapped long ago, and he was now lying on his bed, idly casting spells at the ceiling.

"Then why aren't we headed there now?" Ron demanded, wincing as Ginny tugged the bandages tight.

"Because, you numbskull, you're injured and we don't have a solid plan," she said, tucking the ends in place. "We don't want to repeat what just happened now, do we?" Ron grumbled in reply and shrugged his shirt on.

"What do you think, Malfoy?" Harry casually asked over his shoulder.

"I think we should get some food in here," Ron announced loudly, overriding Draco's chance to respond. He lay back on his cot with a loud thump. "Ginny, did you bring anything?"

"I've got some food in my pack," Ginny replied, getting up from her perch next to Ron. "I'll go get it."

"Malfoy?" Harry leveled his gaze at Draco, obviously not to be deterred by his friend's rude interruption. Draco contemplated the ceiling, choosing his answer wisely.

"I think that as soon as the Weasel's up to it, we should head north," he finally responded.

"I was thinking the same-"

"Who said this Weasel isn't up to it now, huh?" Ron interrupted, sitting up.

"Ron-" Harry sighed.

"And what gives, anyway, asking him first before me?" Ron rounded on Harry, his cheeks started to turn the same color as his hair. "Don't you want to know what I think?"

"Ron, that's not what I meant-"

"Because I think we shouldn't trust the filthy ferret," Ron cut in, seething. "I think we should just go there right now and get Hermione back."

"Hey-" Ginny started to say, looking up from the food.

"You think three barely trained wizards and an underage witch are enough to take down the potentially dozens of Death Eaters guarding the Lestrange house?" Malfoy asked incredulously, his disbelief making him forget his manners. He knew Ron wasn't all that intelligent, but right now he was acting downright stupid. "We could barely handle the Death Eaters a while ago, and most of them seemed like rookies, judging from how they acted. Your scars should remind you of that."

"Oh will you shut it, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, drawing his wand from his pocket. "What are you even doing here, anyway? You claim to love Hermione, but why are you hesitating when it comes to rescue her? If you love her so much, why aren't you heading over to that bloody Lestrange house to get her back?"

"Because, you stupid little Weasel, I know better than to just Apparate over there and take my chances!"

"Oh are you saying you know better than me now?" Ron yelled, struggling against Harry, who was trying to hold him back. A few steps away, Ginny stood, wand at ready.

"So what if I am?" Draco shot back, drawing his own wand.

"You think you're so high and mighty, don't you? Draco Malfoy, teacher's pet, Daddy's little boy, probably even You-Know-Who's favorite new Death Eater. Oh, look at me, I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm ridiculously rich and awfully good-looking and if I run my hand through my hair and look like I'm brooding, girls will love me!" Ron spat, his tone mocking. "As if Hermione would stoop to caring for something like you."

"And you think you deserve her love instead of me?" Draco's hands shook as he fought to keep a level head. "You have got to be kidding me. You're pathetic, insensitive, moronic and you didn't even give a rat's ass about how dating Lavender made her feel! You understand next to nothing about her!"

"Like you understand her any better!" Ron shoved Harry aside and marched right up to Draco, who stood his ground. He poked Draco hard in the chest with his wand. "You've spent all these years making her life a living hell! And now you expect us to believe you've gone right round and love her now? Don't joke with me, ferret boy."

"I love her more than you ever will, Weasel," Draco hissed menacingly.

Ron's response was a punch in the nose. Draco could feel the blood spurting out, but ignored it, choosing instead to hit Ron with a hex in the gut. Ron doubled over immediately, but shot a Stunning Spell that Draco deflected.

"ENOUGH!" Ginny bellowed, and a Shield Charm erupted between the two boys. Draco fell back, but Ron was forced over to the mouth of the cave by the spell.

"I don't want him here, Harry," Ron shouted, stabbing a finger at Draco.

"Ron, we need him-"

"No we don't!" There was something other than anger in Ron's voice now. "We already know where Hermione is. And with Ginny with us, we could get her! It shouldn't be _that_ hard to come up with a plan."

"It's not that simple-"

"Yes it is, Harry." Ron was looking at Harry now, with a bewildered Draco between them; Ginny just stood open-mouthed at the side, her eyes flicking back and forth among the three boys. "Either Draco goes, or I do."

"Ron!"

"I'm serious, Harry." Ron's mouth was set in a grim line. "I can't stand having him there. _I-__ we__'__re_ going to rescue Hermione, not him. So choose."

Harry hesitated, glancing over at Draco as he did so. That hesitation was all Ron needed. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the cave. By the time Ginny lowered the Shield Charm and the three of them rushed out, the echoes of his Disapparition were fading.

"He…left?" Ginny broke the silence first, the disbelief evident in her voice.

"He'll be back." Harry said firmly, though there was some sadness and hurt in his green eyes. Draco simply stood quietly at the mouth of the cave, feeling a little… guilty. But, like Harry said, he knew Ron would come back. The git wouldn't be able to live knowing he'd left Draco to go save Hermione.

At length, Harry and Ginny came back. Harry looked Draco square in the eye, and for a moment Draco thought Harry was going to blame him for the loss of his friend. But Harry just sighed and said, "get some rest. We'll head north tomorrow morning."

Without bothering to set up shifts for the night, the three fell into restless sleep, the mood in the cave as heavy as the weight in Draco's heart.

**xxxxx**

The dawn the next morning was gray, and the remaining three rescuers packed up camp and left the cave. Ginny grasped Harry's arm, and they Apparated north, following Draco's instructions. They came out in a wood a few miles from the Lestrange house. Silently, they began to set up camp. Draco finished casting defensive spells and went to the edge of the wood. The Lestrange house stood on top of the hill in the distance, cold and dark and daunting. But Hermione was there.

"Just a little longer," Draco whispered. Inside his bag, his fingers touched a small scrap of paper. Two names and a promise. Well, he'd make a promise to her now. Whatever it took, he was getting her back.

**xxxxx**

_A/N Phew, this chapter was longer than usual! But I managed to write it, and I hope you people like it! Do you hate me for making Ron abandon them? Are things moving too slow? R&R, people! Let me know how to make this better!_

_Also, as I said, I'm starting another little contest. Tell me why you ship Dramione, and you just might get a sneak preview at my next fanfic project! *wink wink*_

'_Til the next chapter, then!_

_Edit: Hi guys. To those who've read the chapter, my apologies for the words in italics that were stuck together. Seems FFnet decided to cock up my formatting. -_-" Thanks, sarahtree, for pointing it out!  
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	10. Discovery

_A/N Hi guys! Now that finals week is over and I've spent enough time rivaling a hibernating bear in number of hours spent asleep, I can write again! I'd have updated earlier this week but my panda mode activated and I just spent hours eating and sleeping. I think I'm about as big as a panda by now –the siren call of MnMs and Cheetos packs cannot be resisted!_

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and congratulations again to shadowsovereuropeanskies, who won the contest. She's previewed my work, given me suggestions and praise, and I'm hoping you'll enjoy the story as much as she does as soon as it's up. *wink wink* In the meantime, enjoy this story!_

_Edit - I **really **should check my documents before I add them to stories. FFnet keeps cocking up my formats. Sorry!  
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_Chapter time!_

**xxxxx**

Draco sneaked a glance around the tree he was currently pressed up against, hoping to the high heavens no one would be peeking back at him. He breathed a sigh of relief, meeting no wand held up to his throat. He crouched low and moved over to the next tree he could hide behind, eyes and ears alert for any disturbance. As soon as he got to the tree he straightened and backed up against it, until the bark dug into his skin through his coat.

It was their second day of surveillance. After the failure at Malfoy Manor, he, Harry and Ginny had decided to be more careful with their planning. They set up patrol routes to monitor who went in and out of the small but grand house, how many, and what they did. Draco's route took him behind the house, skirting the fence, up until his route crossed Ginny's over at the left side. Then he'd double back until his route crossed Harry's at the back corner of the lot. He would repeat this four, five times before heading back to their shelter. They would do this on the hour, every hour, then nap, practice spells or eat, then head back.

For a house that contained such an important prisoner, there were very few guards –far less than the number at Malfoy Manor. _But,_Draco reasoned as he darted over to the next tree, _no__ one__ would__ think__ of__ coming__ here.__ It__'__s __not__ very __well-associated__ with__ the__ Death__ Eaters, __since__ Bellatrix__ and __Rodolphus __have __their __own __house __in __town.__ And__ Gram__'__s__ been __dead __for__ years._

A sudden movement nearby made him start and automatically raise his wand, ready to fight to the death if caught. His heart, momentarily running a thousand beats a minute, calmed when a small sparrow flitted in front of him for a few seconds, then flew off. _Merlin,__ I __thought __I__ was__ done__ for,_Draco thought, before chuckling at his paranoia. No one ever passed this way, not in all the hours he'd patrolled. No one even stood to guard here. It was just him, the fence, the rocks and maybe fifty million trees-

A scuffle to his right made him freeze. The sound of footsteps crunching through leaves made him inhale sharply and flatten himself against the tree so hard it hurt. He held his breath, hand immediately going to his pocket and clutching his wand. He mentally cursed himself in French for not putting on a Disillusionment Charm before patrolling, but then again, he'd never had anyone come by here before. _Careless,__ careless,_he berated himself.

The footsteps drew closer, their proximity to him growing in direct proportion to his proximity to the tree. If he pressed up any harder he was going to _become _the damn leafy thing. He gripped his wand so tight he thought he might break it, and braced himself to disarm, stun, kill –anything to defend. The footsteps drew up behind him and he tensed at the sound of ragged breathing. It wasn't until the footsteps began to move away that Draco realized he'd been holding his breath.

Draco closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief (hopefully none too noisily). He focused on his ears, listening to the footsteps move further away –then abruptly stop. Frowning, he heard a creaking noise, followed by a soft thump. Then silence. Summoning all his courage and counting to three, he peeked around the tree. The Death Eater was gone.

Draco blinked. Where on earth-? The footsteps had been moving away, but not enough to take the Death Eater out of his line of sight. Unless he'd jumped the fence-? But the thump would have been much louder than that…and that didn't explain the creak. He frowned, scanning the area. Up a tree? Not likely. No scuffle of branches and rustling leaves. No Disapparation either –that made a pop, not a creak and a thump. Invisibility cloak, maybe? Or Disillusionment Charm? But that still didn't explain the creak…

Draco settled himself at the base of the tree, making sure to stay behind a handy bush, and stared at the general area in front of him. Where on earth had that man gone? A sudden idea came to mind and he brought out his wand.

"Homenum revelio," he whispered. If the man was invisible, this would let him know…

Nothing. So that ruled out cloaks and charms. And meant that the man had, quite literally, vanished into thin air. Draco looked up. Maybe he had flown off? But there had been no rush of air. Cursing again –quite creatively this time- Draco stood and stomped off to finish the rest of his patrol, his thoughts never straying far from the disappeared Death Eater. He'd come back to that spot later. He'd watch all night if he had to. There was something up in that area of the lot and he was damned well going to find out what. Especially if it meant any hope of finding Hermione. He'd latch onto _anything,_ any lead, any hint.

There was a silence in the area after Draco had left. A sparrow flew down from a nearby tree to peck at something on the ground. It started and flew upward, however, when a patch of ground suddenly opened, a creak issuing from rusty hinges. A dark passage was revealed, from which a Death Eater emerged, wand at the ready. After glancing around a few times and waving his wand a bit, the Death Eater was apparently satisfied and lowered the patch of ground with a soft 'thump. Glancing around a few more times, he Disapparated with a soft 'pop.'

The sparrow watched all this with its head cocked. Once the man had gone, it flew back down to the patch of ground, which was now indistinguishable from its surroundings, nary even a latch giving it away.

**xxxxx**

One hasty meal and a hurried exchange of information later, the three were back to patrolling the house. Harry's and Ginny's notes were the same as the previous day, since their areas crossed with the patrols of the guards of the house, whose movements seemed fairly regular. When it had been Draco's turn to share, however, he simply stated that nothing had happened, as usual. Now he returned to his patrol with small muffins of guilt in his stomach. He knew he should have told them about the mysterious disappearing Death Eater, but something inside stopped him. _It__ wouldn__'__t __be __much __use,__ anyway, _he reasoned, _since__ I __know __next __to__ nothing __other __than __the__ fact__ that__ one __moment __he__ was __there,__ the__ next __he__ wasn__'__t.__ So __there __won__'__t__ be __much__ to __tell. _He frowned, still a little bothered, but pushed the guilt away. He'd tell them…sometime.

Reaching the tree he'd almost embedded himself into earlier that day, Draco immediately dropped down, lying flat on his stomach. At the start of his patrol, Draco had still felt rather queasy about being in contact with nature so much, but after all those hours, soil in his hair didn't even faze him (though the leaf that had blown into his face did). He narrowed his eyes in concentration, scanning the area intently. He'd stay forever if necessary. A couple of birds flew overhead, twittering annoyingly. Draco winced as something white landed a few inches away from his face.

"_Stupides __oiseaux__,__" _he muttered, inching away from the white splat. (*) The grass tickled his nose and he sneezed, causing his face to dig into the ground. Sputtering and spitting out the bits of dirt that clung to his lips, he reached out a hand to push himself up from the ground. His fingers came into contact with something not quite dry… Dreading the worst, he looked down at where his hand was.

"_Je détèste ça__,__" _he hissed as he Scourgified his fingers five times over. (*)

Satisfied that the offending excrement had been completely expunged from his skin, Draco decided the ground was probably not the best vantage point. Looking about, his gaze fell on a few sizeable branches of the tree he was standing under. The tree was leafy enough…and the branches looked strong…and it would provide him _some_form of protection. Resolving to blast away any bug that dared to come within two feet of him, Draco began to climb the tree.

Which was much harder than it seemed at first.

Bloody hell, why did people ever climb these things –for _any_ reason?

Finally wrestling himself onto a decent-sized, flattish branch, Draco panted and looked around. The spot offered him a perfect view of his area of patrol, but with all the leaves, it would be hard to spot him at first glance. Settling onto the branch (and wary for bugs), he glared at the ground beneath him, alert for footsteps, Apparitions, anything.

Minutes dragged by and nothing happened. The warm sun beat down on his shoulders, illuminating his white blonde hair. A gentle breeze picked up, ruffling it. Draco leaned back on the branch a little more, which was starting to feel pretty comfortable. Slowly –a little reluctantly- Draco closed his eyes. Then opened them. Then closed them again…then opened one. His body leaned down even more, propping him up on other branches for support. His eyes closed again… _Nobody__ comes__ by __here,__anyway,_he thought as he decided to take a little nap.

**xxxxx**

_Something was straddling his hips. He opened his eyes, blinking in the sudden light. How long had he been asleep? He stretched, lifting his body off the…bed? Where the hell was he? Panic jolted him awake and he shot up-_

_-and collided with a soft, warm body that was shaking slightly. He looked up into brown eyes and a laughing mouth. His eyes widened and his breath hitched. Hermione._

"_Bad dream?" she whispered, her hand dancing in his hair. Without waiting for him to answer, she dipped her head and kissed him. Still shocked from the situation, Draco didn't respond at first, but when her hand tightened in his hair, he tentatively reached out his own and wrapped it around her waist, drawing her down with him. They lay on the bed, her slight body on top of his, kissing. Her hand shifted, curling around his neck, then brushing over his shoulder; her other hand was occupied with unbuttoning the shirt he wore. His own fingers moved over her ribs, traced the sharp line of her hips. He inhaled sharply when her fingers lightly touched his chest. He moaned a little when she broke the kiss and pulled away. Something wet hit his skin and he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and his jaw dropped open when he saw she was crying._

"_Hermione-?" he asked, haltingly, lifting up a hand to brush her tears away. She batted his hand away and withdrew. "Hermione, what's wrong?"_

"…_you…" So soft he barely heard it, and yet it almost made his heart stop._

"_What?" He looked at her in disbelief as she pulled farther away from him._

"_Why did you leave me, Draco?" she wailed suddenly, looking up at him. Bruises suddenly appeared on her skin, cuts opened, red marks were scratched over her skin. Shocked and scared, Draco made to touch her –but she only stumbled backwards, off the bed. "Why did you leave?" she asked again, as her blood began to trickle out of the cuts and her bruises turned deep purple. "Why haven't you saved me?"_

"_Hermione, I-"_

_Her hair was falling to the ground, as if cut by an invisible scissors, until it was uneven and very short. Tears opened in her clothes._

"_Hermione. What's happening-?" He desperately moved toward her, wanting this agonizing picture to be erased from his mind. What was happening to her? Why wouldn't she let him near her?_

_She screamed then, long and shrill and piercing, and she crumpled to the ground and he ran forward to catch her but she passed right through his arms and hit the ground, sobbing-_

And Draco woke with a jolt that nearly pitched him from the tree. He scrambled around wildly, a broken and scarred Hermione still in his mind. It felt as if he couldn't breathe and his heart was stopping. His hand slipped off the branch and he lurched to the side, almost falling again. The shock was enough to wake up completely. He struggled to even his breath and calm his heart.

"What the bloody hell?" he whispered, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. He wasn't crying; just the opposite, in fact. His eyes felt painfully dry. He shuddered. God he had been so scared, so anguished…

A small 'pop' drew his attention and he looked down just in time to see another Death Eater appear a few feet away from his tree. Draco clamped his lips together, determined not to make a sound. The Death Eater glanced around a few times, then strode toward the fence. Kneeling, the man took out his wand and tapped the ground thrice, saying words Draco couldn't make out from his perch. A section of the ground lifted itself up, its hinges creaking. Draco's eyes widened. Was this-? The Death Eater descended into the newly opened passage, the disguised door closing behind him with a soft 'thump.'

Draco forced himself to count to twenty before dropping down to the ground. Wincing at the impact (he might have sprained something) he made his way carefully toward the spot the Death Eater had entered. He knelt, fingers probing, but found nothing –no gaps, no handle. Frowning, he took out his wand and tapped the soil thrice. Nothing. _Damnit,_ he cursed. He needed to find out what that Death Eater had said.

Not wanting to get caught, he moved backward, retreating to the cover of the trees. He crouched and waited. Minutes dragged by, but the Death Eater did not emerge. Draco's stomach grumbled a little. He hesitated. If he left, the man could leave while he was gone. But then again, there wasn't much Draco could do, since he didn't know what was down there –or how many would exit. And he didn't know how to get in. Biting his lip, he reluctantly circled the rest of his patrol, heading back to the shelter.

Neither Harry nor Ginny were inside, and he hadn't passed either of them on his way back, so they were either preoccupied with each other or were on patrol. After munching a crust of bread, Draco sat down on the nearest cot –Harry's. He couldn't get into that passage without knowing the spell or password used to open it, but he knew he just _had _to get in. Something important was down there. It could even be…

Draco flinched, remembering his most recent dream about her. The movement caused his hand to shift, sliding under Harry's pillow. His fingers came into contact with something silky, and Draco looked down, puzzled. His fingers closed around the…thing…and drew it out. His eyes widened. Potter's cloak? What on earth was it doing here? He fingered the smooth fabric, draping it over his hand –which immediately disappeared. He stared at it, then smirked, a plan beginning to form in his mind.

"Looks like I owe you one, Potter," he muttered as he balled up the cloak and all but ran out of the shelter, not noticing the person who'd been crouched near the entrance, watching him move further and further away.

**xxxxx**

_A/N I know, I know. It's been ages since I've updated, and I'm sorry. But know that I am not one to abandon fics! I just take really long to update HAHAHA._

_About the (*) - they're in French, though I can't vouch for accuracy. I just used Google translate. The first phrase, in English, is "stupid birds." The next is "I hate this."  
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_Anyway, this chapter was long. Almost 3000 words! (That's long for me. Most of my chapters don't go higher than 2200.) Was it any good? Did I lose the tone of the story? And was I starting to sound weird? (I'm hoping all the Beyblade fanfics I've been reading didn't affect my way of writing.) R&R, please and thank you!_

_Hoping to update soon!_


	11. Father

_A/N I hate going to school, I really do. On the plus side, I am now officially into my second semester, sophomore year. Then again, that might not really be a plus. Fast forward to Christmas, s'il vous plait?_

_Oh look, me and my French._

_Anyway! Finally updating. I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry. The most activity I've had on FFnet for a while now is me reading a million and then some Death Note fanfics (and the occasional Dramione). Yes, welcome the noob to the world of Death Note. How I lived this long without watching it, I don't know._

_Also, I've just realized how short this sequel is going to be. From how I've thought it out, there will be at most five (give or take one) chapters left? Unless I find a way to pad it with… I d'know, anything. But we'll see. This story's kind of been writing itself all this while anyway (I **did **state in Not Like This that I hadn't planned on a sequel… and really, up until now, I'm not really planning it. It's just going places)._

_Written while watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Ah, nostalgia._

_But! Enough babble. Chapter time!_

**xxxxx**

Draco marveled at the Invisibility Cloak as he tugged it over his body and it immediately vanished. It was supple and smooth, flowing against him like water. He'd only ever seen these, never really used them. Oh, the things he could have accomplished if he'd owned one. He was fairly sure Potter's mindset was much the same and this was how he'd done so much without getting caught.

He moved quickly, quietly, through the forest, trying his damnednest not to get the cloak caught on branches and rocks. Despite his denials, he'd actually come to… not dislike Potter so much, and it wouldn't be very… prudent to tear his cloak. Especially since he hadn't exactly _borrowed _it, and was using to explore an avenue he hadn't informed them about. Clenching his teeth, Draco shoved down the muffins of… something in the vicinity of becoming guilt. He'd get Hermione back even if it meant ripping Potter's damn cloak to shreds.

The sky was dimming, the chirping of the birds slowly being replaced by the humming of crickets. A squirrel scampered around him, its paws almost catching the cloak and causing Draco to stumble. A sparrow flew down and nipped at the squirrel, and the squirrel chattered at it angrily until an owl's faraway hoot silenced it. Day sounds faded into the twilight, and Draco was suddenly struck by the peace of it all. Hours spent in surveillance, the past few months' events, and the general anxiety at knowing Hermione was in danger had stressed him out severely. He reached up to the bags around his eyes, fully feeling –for the first time- how much of himself he'd lost since his capture. The dusk was bringing on a serenity he hadn't felt in so long… a serenity he hadn't known since those stolen days with Hermione.

He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his mind not to call up the memories. He didn't want to ruin what peace he had attained, no matter how temporary it was. Just once, just this once, he simply wanted to be happy he was alive.

After a while, he reached the same tree he'd climbed earlier that day and leaned against it, catching his breath. All around him leaves rustled in the evening breeze. A firefly flitted before him, winking in the growing darkness. He watched it for a few moments, reveling in his newfound tranquility-

-until it was abruptly broken by a creak and short string of profanities, and Draco was reminded of his duty. He crouched low in the shadows, momentarily forgetting he was invisible, and narrowed his eyes at the silhouette emerging from the passage in the ground. It turned, and in the dying light Draco saw the familiar white mask.

A Death Eater.

Holding his breath, he watched as the Death Eater climbed out and straightened, its head shifting back and forth. This was it; this was Draco's chance. He drew his wand, shifting slightly to get a better target.

_Crack._

_Fuck_. Draco looked down to the broken twig beneath his toes, then back up. The Death Eater had heard him. It was wary now, crouched in a defensive position, one hand tucked into the folds of its robes –presumably gripping its wand. Draco once again found himself pressed up against a tree, but this time he wasn't that frightened anymore. He forced himself to breathe normally as the Death Eater began creeping toward him. _He __can__'__t__ see__ me, _he reminded himself.

Instinctively, Draco pressed up harder against the tree the closer the Death Eater got. The hand gripping his wand was shaking slightly as he raised it, taking careful aim. As soon as the figure in front of him turned its back, he allowed himself a small smile as he whispered "Stupefy."

The jet of red light burst out of his wand.

Against all odds, the figure chose that very second to bend over.

The spell whizzed harmlessly over its target, missing completely. Draco, however, was not so fortunate; the Death Eater hadn't missed _noticing_it. Immediately it was back in defensive stance, and heading directly toward the source of the spell. Which, of course, meant it was heading directly toward Draco.

Cursing his rotten luck, Draco ducked down and tried to scurry away to the cover of the deeper forest. Panic did nothing for him; he blundered through the overgrowth noisily, attracting the attention of the Death Eater. The wind carried its voice over to the stumbling blonde boy, making him shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Where are you, you little sneak?"

Draco's gray eyes went wide as he recognized the voice. Surely not- it couldn't be- No. No, it couldn't. Not with what he knew. No, no, no. Merlin, please, no. That voice had been bad enough in his nightmares. But there it was, in real life, taking much of his resolve; what little he had left was wavering. He whipped around. The Death Eater was hot on his heels.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." That voice, that voice. Draco cried out as his foot caught a roof and he pitched toward the forest floor. He heard a triumphant snarl and immediately propelled himself backward, not caring if his hands scraped painfully against gravel or his pants chafed or his cloak was almost coming off. He just had to get away.

"I know you're out there," the voice hissed, and Draco knew it was getting closer. When his back hit a tree, Draco was just short of all-out panic. His breathing came in spurts, his heart sped up tenfold, and as his pursuer loomed out of the shadows, he noticed just seconds too late that one foot was sticking out of the cloak, pale ankle exposed for all the world to see.

"There you are," whispered the venom and velvet voice of Lucius Malfoy as he raised that cobra-headed wand and prepared to strike.

Draco could only watch.

That black-gloved hand reared back and Draco closed his eyes-

-and something abruptly thudded to the earth as red briefly streaked across his vision.

Silence.

Draco waited until his heart had calmed and his breathing had slowed before opening his eyes. He inhaled sharply at the sight before him. There was his father, mask teetering on the ground next to him, quite obviously Stunned. The cobra-headed wand was firmly grasped in the familiar black-gloved hand. For a few long moments, Draco could not tear his eyes away. His father. His father was right there. Deep, deep down, underneath all the panic and revulsion and anger, Draco felt the stirrings of familial relief. His father was alive.

He stood slowly, blinking to adjust his eyes to the enveloping darkness. The cloak slid off his shoulders and huddled on the ground. "Hello?" he called softly. "Hello?" No answer. Draco looked around, confused and a little wary. "Who's there?" He raised his wand and, battling every instinct, lit the tip. No one. Nothing. Who had saved him?

Unsettled, Draco turned his attention back to his unconscious father. What had he been doing in there? How was he alive? He reached down toward the mask lying on the ground, but arrested his fingers right before they touched. Could he-? The white disguise sparked something in his mind. A plan. He was only a little smaller than his father; the robes and the mask would fit. His fingers closed around the mask and he lifted it to his face.

The mask hovered a few inches before his face. Draco watched it shake in the air. Not once had he worn this, not even after he'd been branded. He had never donned the robe and mask and gone in service to the Dark Lord, hexing people without a second thought, purging the world of what they believed was filth. Despite having held one countless of times, a mask had never touched his face. He looked down at his father, whose face he had seen covered up countless times. It was exposed now, a long scar running up his cheek, crossing his left eye. His white-blonde hair was more white than blonde, and uneven. Through the robes the son could see his father's thin frame. He had lived, yes, but he had not lived well.

Kneeling, he stripped his father of the long, dark robe. A bolt of bitter humor shot through him when he saw that underneath, his father was wearing simple pants and a button-down. He rather looked like an eccentric Muggle. Swallowing his disgust, he dropped the robe over his shoulders, the black fabric clinging to him as if trying to drag his skin from his body. Then the mask. It leered at him, the inverted face, mocking his every movement. With shaking fingers pressed the cold metal to his skin. It weighed him down, choked him. His left arm burned.

Forcing himself to remain calm and focused, Draco looked at the unconscious body on the ground beneath him. The eye slits distorted his vision slightly. What to do with his father? If he left him here, Lucius might wake up before he came back, or someone could find him. And it wasn't as if he could take his father with him. And there was something else… something tickling the back of his mind. Draco began to pace slightly, biting his lip –and then his foot stepped onto something soft and silky and he nearly lost his balance. Looking down, he blinked in surprise at the puddle of cloth at his feet. _The__ Invisibility __Cloak! _That could work, couldn't it?

Steeling himself, Draco raised his wand. Ropes sprang from the tip and wrapped themselves around his father's body, binding the man. With a flick of his wand, Draco levitated his father to the roots of a nearby tree, lowering him where they were particularly entangled. Hopefully no one would bother him there. Still unwilling to touch his father's unconscious form, Draco again used his wand to curl Lucius up into a ball, then spread the Invisibility Cloak over him. There. That ought to do it.

Stepping back, Draco frowned. Something was missing here… There was something he wasn't thinking of. The forest was pitch-black now; the sun having completely set. He tapped his wand against his palm and lit the tip and –_wand._

The password.

And his father's wand.

_Shit. _He couldn't just wake his father up and ask for the password to the underground passage. Neither could he leave his father within crawling distance of that cobra-headed wand. He could simply take the wand with him, but the thought of that metal snake head coming into contact with his skin utterly repulsed him. But he knew he couldn't make a convincing Lucius without it… At the thought, Draco did not even bother trying to suppress the shudder that ran through him. How long ago had he sworn to never be like the man lying before him? And yet now, in order to save Hermione, he was going to have to _become _him.

Draco laughed bitterly. Life could really screw with you sometimes.

Reluctantly, he reached down and fumbled until he found his father's hands. He stripped the one of its glove and pulled it on, gritting his teeth. He then pried the wand out of the other and stripped it of the glove as well. The cobra head glittered on the ground, the jewels set into the eyes seeming almost alive, watching him. At the sight, he nearly balked on his plan. This was the wand that had tortured him time and again, ever since he was a boy. This wand meant pain and punishment. This wand had killed hundreds of innocents, had torn apart lives and loves.

_This__ wand__ could __have__ hurt __her, _Draco realized, and the anger bubbled up. Lucius could have.

Snarling, he snatched up the wand. His fingers convulsed around it for a moment, wanting to break it. The red eyes of the cobra dared him to do so. With ever ounce of self-control in his body he shoved it into the pocket of his robes. An image of Lucius, cackling, eyes manic, _Crucio-_ing Hermione swam into his mind and Draco bit back a roar of anger. He pushed it back, not wanting to see, not wanting to imagine…

And then it hit him.

Lucius had come from the passage. Lucius would know the password to it. It would be there, in his thoughts, in his _mind__…_

Could he do it?

As if it were a separate entity from him, his body gave him an answer. Shaking fingers closed around the slender rod of wood in his pants pocket. A stiff arm raised it just until it was level with the invisible lump that was his father. Chapped lips forced one word through teeth, a dry tongue forming syllables it had not used in a long, long time.

"Legilimens."

**xxxxx**

_Narcissa, beautiful and elated, walking down an aisle in a stunning wedding dress, his new life and hope-_

_Narcissa, pale and wan, cheekbones sharp as she prepared a thin cabbage stew in the tiny cottage, and from his seat at the dining table Lucius steeled himself to tell her he'd been passed over for promotion yet again-_

_Rodolphus Lestrange, grinning evilly, informed Lucius of his new master and the rewards Lucius would gain if Lucius joined the cause as well-_

_Lucius, biting back a hiss of pain as the Mark was branded onto his skin, back muscles rigid with determination-_

_A small girl looked up at him with fearful blue eyes, her pink mouth forming an 'o' just as a jet of green light filled his vision-_

_Narcissa's own blue eyes searched him for answers he could no longer give, and Draco now knew why his father never looked his mother in the eye anymore-_

_Lucius led Narcissa by the hand into Malfoy Manor, their new home, his new underlings scurried to bring their bags over the threshold-_

Draco felt new chaos seep into his mind and heart at the memories, and he desperately searched for that which he was looking for, not wanting to see all these strange and new sights, things he had never known before-

_Narcissa cried out as Draco was brought into the world, and Lucius looked at the newborn baby and saw only another sacrifice to the Dark Lord, another piece of him to give up for money and comfort and a better life than he had first given his wife-_

_Hundreds of faces of Muggles and wizards alike, all having fallen by Lucius' hand, and Draco saw how his father had never forgotten any of them-_

_Draco fell to the ground, brought down by his own hand, and Lucius was convincing himself that this was all for something good, even as he hurt his only son-_

There! There was the memory-

_Lucius knelt on the ground behind the old Lestrange house, eyes furtively scanning his surroundings, and he tapped the ground thrice and whispered-_

**xxxxx**

Swallowing all the guilt, pain and confusion that had welled up inside him, Draco crouched on the grass, the borrowed robes fanning out around him like a ridiculous dress. He squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and tapped the ground thrice.

"_Patefacio __in __tenebris__ nomen __domini,_" he whispered. (*)

A square section of ground lifted itself up with a creak.

"Lumos," he muttered, and light burst from the tip of his wand.

The dark mouth of the passage yawned at him like a hungry beast.

A short set of steps flowed down to a dirt-packed trail, leading off into the shadows.

Hermione could be somewhere at the end of that.

Draco repeated that thought to himself again and again as he took his first steps down the stairs, making his way down into the darkness, his borrowed Death Eater garb weighing him down with every footfall. His heart was in his throat and his bottom lip between his teeth and for one, heart-wrenching moment he turned, eyes searching the stars-

Before he could even think about turning back, the ground closed itself once more, leaving Draco utterly alone.

No way but forward.

The cobra head of his father's wand bumped against his hip as he strode forward into the waiting darkness.

**xxxxx**

_A/N This chapter took three days to crank out. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but I can't quite pinpoint what exactly makes me unhappy._

_(*) Latin for "All in the name of the Dark Lord." Or "Open in the name of the Dark Lord." Google Translate.  
><em>

_What do you think of Lucius' memories? Do you at least hate him less now? (Haha.) Was that whole sequence up there confusing?_

_Constructive criticism is always welcome, please and thank you!_


	12. Found You

_A/N Hi people! Christmas break has officially begun, and now I have time to write again!_

_I sincerely apologize for my long absence. I was dealing with a lot of personal issues as well as educational ones (haha), but now I'm back on track and ready to write! Let me tell you now that self-esteem issues and a funk of bad depression are absolutely not conducive to writing happy romantic fanfiction. Neither are persistent, low-grade fevers brought on by too many sleepless nights._

_And now, t'is chapter time! Hoping to finish this soon, to a) make up for my long absence, b) ensure you guys don't live in suspense for much longer, and c) get my latest fanfic project up! Small hype –it's a completely AU fanfic entitled Dietro La Maschera – Behind the Mask, and I'm very, very excited for it._

xxxxx

_It's dark._

_It's cramped._

_It smells like death._

These thoughts went around and around Draco's head like a mantra, repeating with his every inhale and exhale, with every beat of his heart, which was thudding so loudly he was sure every Death Eater in the house could hear it. Every footstep fell so deafeningly he expected a whole horde of his former comrades to show up, wands ready, immediately realize he was not his father, and fill his last moments with a blaze of green. His breathing echoed around the tiny chamber, every puff of air making him wonder why his wicked aunt wasn't racing down here, raring to dig a knife into his heart.

_It__'__s__ dark,__ it__'__s__ cramped, __it __smells__ like __death_ and a small patch of white suddenly erupted from the blackness in front of Draco. At least, he thought it was in front. He'd been wandering around through the darkness so long he could be going sideways, backwards or down to China for all he knew. It would have been a simple feat to light his wand so he could see where he was going, but (highly irrationally at that) he was too terrified to mutter the spell. Despite the mask and the clingy robe and the lead rock that was his father's wand in his pocket, he felt so very, very naked –exposed to anything that might come his way.

The patch of light grew with every step, blinding Draco after all the moments in darkness. For some strange, inexplicable reason, the light reminded him very much of Hermione –it was a good thing, it would save him, but he didn't want to accept it at first because he'd grown accustomed to all the darkness clinging to him. And then the footsteps stopped and Draco nearly cackled. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe food deprivation was messing with his head, making him think of all these absurd analogies.

The nearer he got, the more he realized the light was not as bright as he initially thought. It was dim, soft, wavering, and rather yellow –_candles,_ Draco realized. Candles. How quaint.

Candles made him think of the dungeons at Hogwarts which made him think of Snape which made him think of Hermione whom he pushed into the closets of his mind and thought of Harry instead which made him think of the guilt he felt for not bringing him down here as well which made the ugly monster in his chest rear up again and though he tried to think of anything but, there it was: _It __has__ to __be __me __who __rescues __Hermione. __It __has __to __be __me, __it __has __to __be __me, __it __has __to__ be __me._

He could be so selfish sometimes.

But what could he do? A few weeks worth of good times was not enough to erase several years of torment. Even if he tried to make excuses (_no__ time,__ need __to__ do __this__ now, __take__ an __opportunity,__ it __might__ not __come__ to__ anything __anyway_) he knew he was trying to atone for his mistakes. For making her life hell. For hurting her in those last moments. For letting them take her. For not finding her sooner.

Draco slapped himself for real, the _smack_ echoing off the cobblestone corridor. Why was he being so dramatic?

The candlelight flickered in front of him.

The closer he got to the lights, the stronger the stench of despair and death became, and the more his fears rose inside, threatening to eat him alive. Was she here? Was she dead? Was she alive, but only just? What had they done to her? Thought after thought beat themselves against his skull, reverberated through his brain, shuddered down his spine, and suddenly his father's wand, the wand that might have hurt her, hurt her, suddenly weighed a million tons and it was pulling his pocket to the ground and his body with it. Every footfall hurt, every breath seared his throat, ever heartbeat felt like his last, and was it his imagination or was someone sobbing and was it him? Was that why he tasted dirty coins?

_It's dark, it's cramped, it smells like death._

In a heartbeat and a breath he decided to turn back and then he heard a strangled scream.

In a heartbeat and a breath he'd moved three feet forward.

It could be her, it could be someone else, it could be a trap but at this point Draco couldn't care less. All he knew was that that scream sounded _exactly_ like the one in his dreams, the one haunting his waking moments when he wasn't careful enough, and he'd be damned if he didn't get to the source.

Five heartbeats and five breaths.

There was candlelight.

There was a short corridor with blank walls and a stone floor.

There was a cell at the end.

There was more darkness.

The mask had loosened slightly on his face.

Draco's heart thudded so fast and so loud and so hard he was sure he was going to die. The thuds bounced off walls and sliced through him, rattling his mind until he was sure he'd fall to the ground, writhing and screaming her name.

He didn't, though.

What _did _happen was a panel to the side slid open and a Death Eater stepped out, small and stocky, wand at ready. It glanced around and spotted Draco and pointed its wand towards him, an unspoken challenge. And Draco, acting completely on instinct, only survival in mind, panic in his veins, yanked out the first wand he could and shot a jet of red light at the Death Eater, who crumpled upon impact.

Draco did not notice his victory, however, because he was horrified at what he held in his hand.

The red eyes of the cobra mocked him in the dim light, the flickering making them look alive.

_He was a young boy again, chasing a fallen toy down the stairs, hearing his parents argue about his future-_

_He was failing to outdo a Mudblood in school and his father was severely displeased-_

_He'd managed to get himself slashed by a Hippogriff and his father was absolutely livid, tearing him from his bed at the hospital wing by his injured arm, yelling about his idiocy-_

_His mother was hurrying into the tent, telling him to run, even as he heard his father's voice calling for him, knowing it would be for him to join in that sick and twisted Death Eater fun-_

_He was protecting his mother from his father's rage, even as the injuries already inflicted on him shrieked for rest-_

_His father was screaming out the Unforgivable Curse at his son, the last words he'd knowingly uttered to his son, his tortured, incarcerated, beaten down son, defenseless before that voice that hammered down every aspect of his life, and the red eyes of the cobra wand glowed in manic joy-_

He couldn't pry his fingers off, couldn't let go, couldn't do anything but stand there, arm shaking, mind reeling, breath staggered, fingers locked in a vice grip on a wand that had tortured him countless times throughout childhood, a wand that had slashes and burned and killed. It took him a full minute before he realized his mouth was open and his scream was so high-pitched it could barely be heard; he sounded like a hoarse tea-kettle.

He'd used the wand, used the wand, used his father's wand.

The cobra clattered down onto the stone floor and the eyes died.

There was a cell at the end.

There was more darkness.

There was also a suffocating, terrifying silence.

Draco could not move forward.

It had finally caught up with him. All the fright, desperation, despair, anger, pain –it careened toward him at a hundred miles an hour and screeched to a halt the moment he dropped his father's wand. He was alone underground under a Death Eater house with his father's wand and an unconscious Death Eater was a frightened boy who'd done too much too soon and it scarred him a renegade hunting down his beloved who might be dead-

-and something at the end of the corridor shifted, the sound of tiny pebbles raining down filling the silent void.

His right foot lifted from the ground like it weighed as much as the oceans and crashed down like a wave.

Right, left, right, left.

In a heartbeat and a breath he'd moved half a step.

It was so hard, so painful, he'd used his father's wand, it hurt, the mask was heavy, why had he left Harry behind, the robe dragged him down, was Snape all right, red light, eerie candles, sweat was loosening the grip of the mask on his face, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, father, father.

Right, left, right, left.

If this was any inclination of how Potter felt, with all those loved ones dead and the weight of an entire wizard world's future on his shoulders, well, he didn't know how the kid bore it.

Right, left, right, left.

The light of the candles dancing over the metal bars of the cell arrested his military walk.

Darkness and a scuffle greeted him.

It was a while before Draco remembered his own wand in his pocket, and when he took it out the familiar feel of the wood and the core steadied him slightly.

"Lumos," he croaked out, air in his throat making him taste and feel sandpaper.

Light flared from the tip

and Draco's slate-gray eyes went wide, wide, wide

and he stepped back once, the mask slid a little down his face, his heart thudded wild, wild, surely he was dying, surely the Death Eater had killed him, surely this was all a hopeful and desperate and pathetic dream he was having, still on the couch at Malfoy Manor

how was he still breathing?

no no please yes this was what he wanted no not like this it hurt Merlin it hurt how was he still alive

mind heart lungs wild expand contract pulse how was this all happening

seeing things yes desperation like oasis this is not real

no moving, no moving, why

so still

_hurts_

Hermione, Hermione, Hermione

"Hermione," a sound torn from his desert-dry throat as the light from the tip of his wand illuminated the cell and the thin, beaten, injured, and utterly, utterly _still_ girl inside it.

**xxxxx**

_A/N Question one, is anyone still reading me? HAHAHA Idk just curious, since I only got what –two, three reviews for that last chapter? So, I'm wondering._

_Question two, was this any good? I wanted to alter the writing style for this chapter, and since this is so pivotal, I'm worried it ruined the story –especially Draco's thoughts and the disjointed, disoriented way of presenting them._

_Constructive criticism, is, as always, welcome! Read and review, please and thank you!_


	13. Short Announcement

NOT REALLY A CHAPTER.

This is me informing you guys that I'll be out of town for the next week and a half, with no internet access, and will therefore not be updating as soon as I'd like. I've been writing the next chapter but I won't be getting it done before I leave (unfortunately), so the next time I'll be updating will be in 2012. Hope you guys can wait that long!

Happy Holidays! As a Christmas present, I'll both relieve and aggravate your suspense by presenting you a sneak preview of the upcoming chapter!

**xxxxxxxxxx**

"What are you doing down here?"

"I- er-"

"Answer me! Why are you here!"

"B-Bella- please-!"

**xxxxxxxxxx**

"I _will _come back for you. I- I lo-"

**xxxxxxxxxx**

It was the dead of the night when he finally managed to get away, and even then he made sure to Apparate away as "he should have," before Apparating back to the safe point. The _crack _resounded through the forest and two bodies hurtled out toward him, wands drawn, eyes blazing. He stumbled backward, terrified at the onslaught, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Don't- Harry- I've found her!"

"You've _what?_"

**xxxxxxxxxx**

He watched, shocked, as the sparrow flitted up and dove. The second it touched the ground, it _changed, _and-

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Ferret Boy."


	14. Chaotic

_A/N Been a while, hasn't it?_

_Did you guys know a prostitute in America can actually earn more than an average architect? Or so says this article I read before. It's kind of disheartening to think about… Maybe I should just run away and become a stripper. Seems I'll even earn more, haha!_

_Btw, guys, read the one-shots I wrote to make up for my absence! My pet favorite is Of Debts and Scars, a nice, long story about Draco and Hermione crossing paths at the war memorial. It's a bit of a deviation from my usual style of formatting and writing, but I rather like how it turned out. So, read please! #shamelessplug_

_And now, for the chapter I have deprived you all of for three months! I changed some events from the "announcement" I made last December._

**xxxxxxxxxx**

For a heartbeat and a breath Draco couldn't breathe, couldn't blink, couldn't get his damned heart to pulse even once as he stared at her unmoving, prone form at the back of the cell. Her hair looked mangled, her body was naked and painfully thin, and there were so, so many scars all over her. She looked like she'd been dragged through a forest of knives. And all because of him.

If she hadn't whimpered just then, Draco felt certain he'd have mauled himself.

But she did whimper, she did, the breathy sound _just _escaping her lips, and it was then he noticed the faint rise and fall of her chest. It was almost imperceptible, barely moving, struggling with every shallow breath – but the movement was there.

She was alive.

And Draco would have cursed those bars in between them to oblivion, would have taken her in his arms right then and there, if the panel behind him hadn't slid open once more to reveal the person he'd least wanted to see in this situation, Voldemort included.

"Tenner?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked in disbelief as she nudged the body of the Stunned Death Eater Draco had left on the floor, forgotten in his haste to get to the end of the corridor. The body twitched, limp beneath her feet, and she made a noise of disgust. Then she looked up and her wand whipped out, deadly and point blank at him. "What are you doing down here?"

"I – er-"

"Answer me! Why are you here?"

"B-Bella, please-!"

"How dare you address me with such familiarity? I ought to-" and here she paused, taking a good look at Draco, who'd stumbled into a patch of candlelight in his panic. Her brow furrowed, then her eyes widened in recognition, and for a few moments Draco was convinced his aunt knew _exactly _who he was and was now going to kill him, right in front of the girl he loved, and then – "Lucius?"

It took a few attempts before Draco could produce coherent, audible sound. "Bella." It was a passable version of his father's voice. Draco knew now would be the one and only time in his entire life that he'd be grateful he'd grown up so much like his father.

She lowered her wand but not her guard. "Weren't you just leaving?"

Draco could feel himself shrinking away from her, retreating into the swathe of the dark robes – but then another strangled whimper came from behind him, reminding him of what he was doing and why he was here. He straightened, adopting the all-too-familiar posture of his father, a stance he'd mimicked for himself time and again. He cleared his throat discreetly and replied in the usual lofty tones of a Malfoy: "Well it appears as though I've come back, hasn't it?"

"Indeed." She eyed him warily, searching for something – possibly a sign of weakness, anything to be suspicious of – but seemed to resign herself to his false identity. "What are you doing down here? That Mudblood filth's no good for torturing when she's unconscious."

"Perhaps we should awaken her, then? Let her taste a little more of the punishment she so well deserves?" Draco fought to keep the venom in his voice even as he felt the bile rise in his throat, his disgust at himself and his words threatening to ruin his disguise. He wanted very much to cleanse his mouth somehow, rid it and his mind of the traces of his sickening speech, but that this might get him to her somehow kept him going.

"Patience, Lucius. She may have ensnared your pathetic son somehow but at the moment she is not much for entertainment value. Besides," and here a manic grin spread across Bellatrix' face, her tongue caressing her lips as if the very words from her mouth were arousal incarnate on them, "I have something _special _planned for the next time we torture her."

"I look forward to it." Draco forced himself to let amusement trickle into his voice. Behind the mask he was quaking in fear and rage. Knowing his aunt, this "something special" did not bode well for Hermione. Not at all.

"Shame we can't kill her outright, though." The laugh that followed those words told Draco his aunt was not disappointed by this in the slightest; in fact, she had probably been enjoying the slow torture inflicted upon Hermione, who had no promise of death to alleviate it. "But she is bait. Such entertaining, filthy bait."

Her wand came up, aiming through the bars, and Draco knew if a spell left her lips he'd lose all composure and possibly kill her. He jerked his hand up and closed it around his aunt's wrist, burying the urge to twist it – snap it – hurt her in any way, just to pay back what she'd done to Hermione, even a little. Her eyes snapped to his in disbelief and outrage – Lucius had probably never done something like this, not after he had fallen so far in the Dark Lord's esteem.

"Is there a problem, Lucius?" Her voice was as icy as her eyes burning.

"You said yourself, Bella: this filthy toy is not to be played with yet." Draco firmly pushed her wrist down, trying to make it the least painful. He knew his aunt's volatile temper well; she was not above cursing even his father if he got in her way. "Patience. I'm sure the opportunity for your special treatment will present itself in due time."

Something close to a pout made its way to Bellatrix' lips as she twisted her arm away from Draco. She spat once in the direction of Hermione, then turned back to the wall. Three taps of her wand opened the panel leading to what Draco guessed was the lowest floor of the house. With a flick of her wand, the body of the unconscious Death Eater on the floor sped up into the waiting darkness. She glanced back to where he was still standing, sending the briefest of glances at the girl in the cell. "Well?"

"I did not come back to stay and chat, Bella. I did leave for a reason earlier today. I will take my leave again." Vague words indeed but Draco hoped they'd do the trick.

There was still wariness in his aunt's eyes, but after a short pause, she simply nodded and left Draco in the dark corridor that was dark, damp, and smelled of death.

The ten seconds Draco forced himself to wait after the panel had clicked close were perhaps the longest seconds he'd ever experienced in his life. _One, two, three. _He forced himself to breathe, slow and even, willing his heart rate to fall. It did not help that his mind kept thinking dangerous and fearful thoughts – what if Bellatrix came back, what if she realized he was not his father, what if he messed up. _Four, five, six. _And Hermione, lying behind him, faintly alive. What could he do for her now? _Seven, eight, nine. _So close, and yet he couldn't save her. _Ten._

He'd barely finished sounding the number out in his mind when he whipped around, falling to his knees, the mask clattering to the stone floor. Right there, she was _right there, _not five feet away from his trembling hand. _So close. _Her thin frame shivered in a breeze Draco could not feel. She twitched, bloody knuckles dragging across the paving – Draco cringed at the trail of crimson she left – and fell still once more.

"Hermione."

Alive. She was alive. Half-dead, beaten, a shadow of the brilliant and fiery witch Draco had come to love, but _alive._

"Hermione."

Draco pressed his forehead to a gap between two metal bars, suppressing a gag, half-embedding himself to the bars as he all but shoved himself between them in his attempt to be even just a hair's breadth closer. _Right there. _His hand fell through the air and he wept unashamedly.

_Hermione. _Her name ripped from his lips like his last breath.

Relief, anguish, desperation, elation – his heart was in chaos. She was right there, _right there. _So long he'd dreamed and tormented himself and she was – she was –

Footsteps from somewhere in the house, sounding quite close, forced him sober. They were hurried and there were many, and he sensed he had run out of time. He glanced at Hermione, wishing with all his might that he could take her with him, envelope her in his arms right now and bring her home safely. Or even just hold her. He would give anything at the moment to simply feel her skin under his, just for a few seconds.

His hand stretched out, unbidden, reaching through the bars toward marred flesh.

A particularly loud set of footsteps caused him to jerk back. No, to leave with her now would only kill them both. He didn't know what enchantments had been placed on this cell, nor on the corridor. And much as he would lay down his life to keep her safe, it would be fruitless to die trying to get her out only to have her end up in a worse situation after.

It pained him greatly, but he stood up. As his knees left the floor he felt as if this brief glimpse of her had somehow managed to anchor his heart to her broken body, and by getting up he was only pulling at the chain that tied him to her – almost ripping his heart from his chest. _So close…_

"I will be back," he whispered, making an unheard promise to the girl in the cell. To Hermione. "I _will _come back. I – I lo-"

There were footsteps behind the panel now, thundering toward him. Draco snatched the remnants of his confession back and took flight, only barely remembering the wand he had dropped on the cold floor. The cobra head was fire and ice to his skin but he gripped it as if his life depended on it, and to some extent it did. He could hear the shouts behind him, enough to make out the angry tone but not the words. His footsteps echoed in the dark tunnel as he fled toward the entrance, each step agony as it led him further and further away from the one thing he'd been so desperately seeking all these weeks.

She had been taken from him once, and that had been excruciating. Now he had taken himself away from her, when she needed him to save her, and it was nothing short of unbearable.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

It was the dead of the night when he emerged from the tunnel, the hatch almost breaking his foot when he'd tripped over the last step. Not knowing if he was being pursued, he whirled around in panic, only _just _remembering where to Apparate to. The cave materialized before him. The _crack _resounded through the forest and two bodies hurtled out towards him, wands drawn, eyes blazing. He stumbled backward, terrified at the onslaught, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Don't – Harry – I've found her!"

"You've _what_?"

Harry's wand dropped in disbelief but Ginny's didn't waver. Draco moved his hands forward as if to ward off a blow – and flinched, pain searing through his shoulder. He glanced down and saw that in his haste and distraction, he'd Splinched himself. And he was still wearing his Death Eater robes. And, Merlin, his _father-_

"Malfoy." Ginny's sharp voice snapped him back to the situation at hand. "It's midnight, a good few _hours _since you were supposed to have come back to report. We came back to an empty cave, a missing watchman, and a stolen Invisibility Cloak. Then we spent the next two hours hunting you down in the damn forest without any leads to where you might be. _Explain yourself._"

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind Draco registered the strict tone and noted how Ginny sounded so much like a mother scolding a misbehaving child. Even Harry spared her an incredulous glance before turning his attention back to Draco, brow furrowed. "What do you mean, 'you've _found _her?'"

"I s – I saw her." The past few hours were starting to catch up with Draco, all the emotional turmoil and stress and pain, and he was feeling bewildered and exhausted. "Under the – under the house. An underground cell. She's" – hiss of pain as he gestured using the injured arm – "alive. She's alive."

"Alive," Harry echoed, arms slack at his sides as his eyes looked over Draco's shoulder to where the Lestrange house stood. "She's alive." He choked on the last word, whispering as if saying it out loud would make it untrue.

Something akin to a sob ripped through Ginny's lips, even as she fought to keep her wand arm steady.

"But – how?" Harry came back to reality slowly, dragging his attention from the faraway point to Draco as if it weighed a ton. "We had nothing to go on – no one was seeing anything – how did you know?"

Draco hesitated, not wanting to lie but not wanting to admit he had lied. Then he blinked; since when did he give such a damn about his relations with Potter and the Weasel girl? The look on Ginny's face left him little room for an internal debate, so he settled for giving the briefest possible explanation that still gave the most important details. When he got to describing his conversation with Bellatrix – using as unspecific words as possible – Harry's hands were balled in tight fists.

"Potter," Draco reasoned, seeing the boy start toward the Lestrange house in anger – and seeing that Ginny was doing precious little to stop him. Not that Draco wanted to be stopping them himself; he'd much rather race Potter to that back trapdoor. "Be reasonable. Two barely legal wizards and one underage witch are far from enough to take on a house full of Death Eaters and take Hermione. We need a plan."

"She's – right – there – Malfoy." Harry's words came out staccato as he fought against Draco's restraining arms, trying to make a run for it. Draco was just thankful that Ginny had enough presence of mind not to run off herself. He couldn't keep the both of them in check.

"I know, Potter!" With one hard shove, Draco had Harry down on the ground, eyes wide with shock. "You don't think I realize that? Merlin, _I _was there – _she _was _right there. _If I could have stretched out just a little further – it was less than _five feet _– it _killed _me to leave."

"Why did you?" The mix of accusation and curiosity in Ginny's voice threw Draco off – it was hard to believe a question could contain such contradictory emotions. That and he was having a hard time coming up with an answer.

"I couldn't stay," he replied at length. Harry had gotten up, dusting his pants. He still looked ready to bolt but thankfully didn't seem to want to act on his urge. He was eyeing Draco curiously, watching him as he answered. "I couldn't stay there – and I couldn't damn well take her with me. Use your brains, Weaselette, I'm sure you've got more of them than your brother."

It was a testament to how much his finding Hermione affected them all that nobody cracked a smile at his feeble remark. Instead, Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, ran a hand through his hair, and simply went back into the cave. Ginny came forward, wand aloft once more. Still on edge, Draco jerked back, fearful for what she might do.

"I just want to fix your shoulder, Malfoy." Her voice and expression were neutral, but Draco could read the internal conflict in her eyes, and knew even she was battling the urge to turn now and blast the Lestrange house to the high heavens so she could dig Hermione out of the ruins. It was this alone that stayed him, kept him still as she ran her wand over his wound again and again, until the raw red flesh turned sealed itself and turned pinkish. Draco briefly wondered where she'd gotten so good at healing magic, then remembered what her mother had done for Snape mere days ago.

Merlin, had it really only been _days? _It felt as if they'd been searching for Hermione for years.

"You should rest," were Ginny's final words to him before she, too, disappeared into the confines of the cave. Draco looked over his shoulder, thinking for a moment if he could run now and go back to her – but his shoulder throbbed and his stomach growled. With a heavy heart, he went over to his bed, passing a silent Harry taking first watch, and surrendered to sleep.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

He awoke with one hand pressed against his mouth, stifling a scream that would have surely woken up whoever was still sleeping. It took a few seconds before he trusted himself enough to move the hand away. He didn't remember the nightmare but he could remember the _feelings – _the absolute terror and despair that haunted him even in waking. He deliberately took slow, even breaths to try and calm down.

"Malfoy? You awake?" Harry's hoarse mumble wandered into the cave. The source followed a few seconds later, hair a mess and eyes puffy, looking as bad as Draco felt. There was a crack to his voice that confirmed Draco's suspicions about Harry crying, but the look on his face told Draco he ought not to mention it, and so he didn't.

"Yeah. I'll take watch. Get some sleep." He trudged past Harry, avoiding his gaze. It was fairly obvious none of them would be getting any sleep that night – Draco could hear Ginny shifting in her bed, over and over, sniffles barely audible but still there. Draco vaguely wondered what it would be like if Ron were around. Probably nothing good. Harry had been hard enough to restrain; pinning Ron down might have killed him.

At that thought, Draco let out a short bark of laughter. Oh wouldn't it be just wonderful, to have torn himself away from Hermione only to die at the hands of Ron. The fucking irony of it all.

Draco dropped to the ground by the entrance of the cave, absentmindedly rubbing his still-throbbing shoulder. The thin moon smiled down on him through the trees. _Chesire Cat moon, _he remembered – something Hermione had told him, long ago, in the Room of Requirement, after reading him her favorite part in _Alice in Wonderland._

_Of course I'm in your head, but does that make me any less real? _He could hear her voice saying the words and something other than his arm hurt, badly.

He could feel the clench in his gut and the tightness in his throat but his eyes felt horribly, horribly dry – so dry they hurt. Suddenly the proximity to people she'd known her whole Hogwarts life – people she had shared years, joys and pains with – was suffocating. They had had years and he had had weeks, precious few weeks of scattered, secret meetings, and – and – and he didn't want to think anymore.

Knowing the other two wouldn't be asleep anyway, Draco set off into the forest, hoping with his last that a walk might do him some good.

It wasn't until he'd tripped over a tree root for the third time in his distracted meandering that he remembered he'd left his father and the cloak at the foot of a tree.

_Fuck._

**xxxxxxxxxx**

Draco tried to be as silent as possible as he moved past the back of the Lestrange house, the trap door calling to him even as the house itself made him shudder. In the dead of the night the forest and the house were quiet, save the occasional hoot of an owl or scuffle of some animal through the undergrowth. He'd forgotten all about Lucius in all the events that had just occurred, and he now wondered if his father had awoken, bound and covered. He wondered what his father would think when he found out it was his son who'd trussed him up.

He wondered a lot of things to stop himself from wondering about others.

The trap door still called to him.

He walked between the trees, trying to gauged where he'd left his father – he'd run through this place in a blind panic, so his memory of his path was vague at best. He knew he'd found it, though, when he saw the rope and the cloak bundled up at the foot of a tree, a dark on dark stain on the roots just visible.

"Shit," was his eloquent reaction as he bent to earth. Had his father escaped on his own? Had someone freed him? Why had they left the cloak intact – and here? It would have been so easy to just take it, or slash it, or _something._

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and Draco recognized the feeling of being watched.

Pulling out his wand – he'd left the Death Eater cloak and the cobra wand back at the cave – he whipped around, eyes wildly searching the dark forest before him. Was it – father – aunt – Death Eater – Harry –? His thoughts and suspicions careened, skittering about, but no one appeared. No footsteps, no sounds of breathing.

But from up above, the chirp of a bird sounded.

Acting on instinct, Draco sent a jet of red light flying, forgetting momentarily where he was and who could be nearby. It shot through the trees harmlessly. His heart pounded in his ears as his hand jerked about, aiming the wand arbitrarily. Where – who – what – and then –

He watched, shocked, as a sparrow flitted up and dove. The second it touched the ground, it _changed, _and-

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Ferret Boy."

Draco forgot about the trapdoor for the moment as he stared disbelievingly at the red hair and gangly figure of one of the Weasley twins.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

_A/N So… did that make up for my absence? O_o It's longer than the chapters I usually write but… Idk, some part of me isn't so satisfied with this. Maybe I just lost the tone of the story since I haven't updated in so long._

_As always, constructive criticism is very, very helpful._

_Thinking about it, I realize there's not much left to this story. I've got the climax all planned out; all I need to do is build up to it. And to make you guys even happier (possibly) I'm gonna tell you now, I'm considering a third installment to this… saga. Series? That. But first, this must finish!_

_Again, please check out Of Debts and Scars, please and thank you! #shamelessplugagain_

_And as always, R&R! Hope to update again soon._


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